


Unforgotten

by Cantanatova



Series: Unexpected Series [3]
Category: Thunderbirds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 60,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28829211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantanatova/pseuds/Cantanatova
Summary: Life on Tracy Island is thrown into uncertainty when they receive some shocking news. What happens when memories are brought to the surface and International Rescue have to contend with more than one old enemy? Third in the ‘Unexpected’ series.
Series: Unexpected Series [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1875142
Comments: 9
Kudos: 4





	1. A Very Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains pretty heavy spoilers for the first two parts of the ‘Unexpected’ series - it should be self explanatory without reading them but if you ever plan to I’d read them first.

Scott Tracy, first responder for International Rescue and pilot of probably the fastest aircraft the world had ever seen, was having a bad day. Not just because he'd managed to cut himself when shaving that morning, in that really annoying spot below the jaw that it was hard to see but stung a lot now. It also wasn't because he'd had to give up on reading his book - he was just getting to the really good bit - when his two youngest brothers, Alan and Gordon, started having a very loud and over dramatic argument about which Thunderbird machine was the best. Despite the fact they were both obviously wrong because Thunderbird 1, his own machine, would wipe the floor with '3 or '4 any day.

No, the reason that Scott Tracy was having a very bad day was because the motor racing that his youngest brother Alan was watching had just been interrupted by a news bulletin. This news bulletin had caused his younger brother to cry out and for all of them to congregate around him to find out what the matter was. The outcome being that he was currently watching the news bulletin alongside his three youngest brothers, father, Grandma and good friend Brains.

"We interrupt this programme to bring you a special news bulletin. Convicted criminal Ethan Grey has escaped from the high security Prentice Prison in Missouri, in the United States of America. It is unknown whether he has an accomplice or is acting alone. Ethan Grey was convicted due to the courageous actions of the eldest two sons of self-made billionaire Jeff Tracy, who apprehended the villain after they had been kidnapped and tortured. For the last two years he has been held under close surveillance, but earlier today there was a disruption at the prison that left two guards dead and three severely injured. In the ensuing mayhem Ethan Grey absconded. The public are reminded not to approach this highly dangerous and volatile convict, but are instead to call the number displayed on the screen now. To repeat, convicted-"

Jeff Tracy, the tall and stern head of International Rescue, silenced the television with a press of a button. The occupants of the lounge of Tracy Villa, which were all of Tracy Island's current residents with the exception of Kyrano the housekeeper, stared at the television in shock and horror.

Ethan Grey. Approximately two years before, he had kidnapped Scott, John and Brains with the intention of luring International Rescue to the scene and stealing their technology. Whilst they had manage to subdue their assailants and call for help, the ordeal had had a lasting impact. Particularly on Scott, who as the eldest brother was the one that had been the one that Ethan had singled out for special 'treatment' – otherwise known as torture. While Ethan had entertained John and an unconscious Brains his henchmen were working to obtain information from Scott, who hadn't given them anything but who had remained traumatised for a long time afterwards.

Well, that was what most of the inhabitants of Tracy Island thought, anyway.

Scott knew better.

Scott knew that it wasn't the memory of torture that still had him waking up in cold sweats in the middle of the night. Or that caused him to suddenly suffer from episodes where he would feel all the air leave his body as emotion welled over him and threatened to cripple him, more than two years on.

It was grief.

Because the day that Ethan Grey had targeted the Tracys - had targeted International Rescue - Scott had suffered through more, much much more than simple torture. He had lost something that was irreplaceable.

Scott had lost Angel.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Jeff Tracy was the one to break the oppressive silence in the lounge. "Alan, can you go and pack a bag. I need you to relieve John for a bit. Virgil, you'll be co-piloting."

Any objections his boys may have had - that it wasn't Alan's turn to man Thunderbird 5, the orbiting space station that acted as International Rescue's communication hub, for another couple of weeks; or that Virgil never usually travelled in the space rocket Thunderbird 3 as co-pilot – died on their lips as they looked at the ashen grey face of their eldest brother. With a quick affirmative, Alan dashed out of the room to hastily throw things into a bag while Virgil took up a seat on the couch that served as the access for Thunderbird 3.

Jeff turned to his intercom. "International Rescue to Thunderbird 5, come in John."

John's face appeared in place of his portrait on the wall facing Jeff's desk. "I'm here, father." John, the second eldest of the Tracy siblings, was tall and fair. Amongst the brothers he took after their mother the most, who had passed away when they were all still very young. Now though he looked very pale in the screen, a worried expression on his face.

"You've heard the news?"

"It's just come through."

"Ok, I'm glad I don't have to repeat it. I'm sending Alan up to relieve you."

John frowned. "I'm alright father."

"You might be, but Scott isn't." John understood immediately and cast his eyes around the room until they alighted on Scott. Scott hadn't moved from the sofa and was now being cajoled by Grandma, Jeff Tracy's formidable mother. But it was to no avail, his eyes were blank and he was unseeing. One hand rested on his thigh but the other clutched something around his neck. With a sinking feeling John felt he knew exactly what it was hidden underneath his brother's polo neck.

"F.A.B., father. I'll be ready whenever Alan is."

"I'm ready!" The youngest Tracy skidded into the room, small bag rammed with clothes with a stuffed toy dog hanging out lopsidedly. It was a sign of how sombre the mood was that no one commented on the sight of the animal, hurriedly shoved out of sight by Alan when he noticed it on display. He sat next to his middle brother Virgil on the small sofa, nodding to show that he was ready. With a quick flick of a wrist the couch disappeared into the floor, an exact copy coming up to replace it.

Soon the sound of Thunderbird 3's engines roared around the small island.

The noise seemed to jolt Scott into action. With one swift movement he stood up, leaving the lounge with long strides. The remaining occupants of the lounge watched him go worriedly.

"He's gonna be ok, isn't he?" Gordon asked. "Not go back to how he was when, you know."

"I don't know, Gordon," Grandma replied. "I just don't know."

Grandma Tracy gathered up some mugs that were lying around the lounge, placing them on a small tray. "I'll go and let Mr Kyrano know what's happened, he'll want to make sure John's room is ready." The Tracy boys almost always did their own cleaning, but because John and Alan were up on Thunderbird 5 for a month or two at a time Jeff had made an exception for them and allowed Kyrano to clean their rooms before they returned.

Scott meanwhile had retreated to his own room and was currently sat on the edge of his bed. He had pulled his necklace out from underneath his blue polo shirt and was running his fingers around it. On a slim leather thong a metal claw hung, glinting in the light coming in through his open window. He could hear the sound of the Pacific Ocean breaking on the rocks around the Island and some birds singing in the shrubs below. All else was quiet, except for his racing thoughts. His expression might have been blank but his mind was not. On a loop he kept thinking about Ethan Grey, his scheme to gain the secrets of International Rescue, how he had been stopped and what the cost had been. He remembered Angel, her soft brown hair and eyes so light they were nearly golden. About her driven expression, occasionally so cold but at other times intense and determined. At the touch of her skin, the smell of her hair - all the things that had made him feel like he was drowning in her presence.

Scott had expected the memories to fade with time, but whilst details of the day itself did he could still picture her so, so clearly. She shone like a beacon in his mind and a part of him thought that perhaps she always would. He worried that he had made her out to be more than human, had glorified her in his subconscious, but he would never know now. It was impossible for him to move on, no other woman would ever come close to the echo of her in his mind.

One hand turned the small metal claw over and over in his fingers. Since he had first picked it up and placed it on a strap around his neck it had been blunted and polished from the amount of times he had held it. He used it as a good luck charm, a talisman and sometimes just something to make him feel better. Now though, he used it to focus his thoughts on one purpose, making a promise to the woman he had loved and lost.

"I will find him, Angel. I will find him and make sure he returns to prison where he belongs."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

When Thunderbird 3 returned to the Island, having swapped one blond brother for the other aboard the space station, the atmosphere was still so tense it could be cut by a knife. Brains had fled to his laboratory, which was his safe haven and the place where he could try to comprehend everything. He had never said it but he felt a lingering guilt that he had been unconscious for the whole ordeal. Similarly, Gordon was working off his stress the best way he knew how, by ploughing up and down the pool. Jeff was still in his study, although Grandma had gone down to the kitchens to cook up a hearty home cooked meal, something Scott always loved.

Jeff surveyed his second eldest as he stepped off the small sofa. John was still pale, but now had a steely determined glint in his eye. "Hello father. Where is he?"

Jeff shook his head. "I'm not sure, probably his room."

With a wave at Virgil John left the lounge, his long strides easily making up the distance across the corridor to Scott's room. Out of politeness he knocked, but when no answer came he pushed the button to open the sliding door and went in anyway, knowing that Scott was probably inside.

He wasn't disappointed. His older brother sat on the edge of his bed, leaning forwards with his elbows resting on his thighs. Scott was slightly more heavily built than John, but not to the extent that Virgil or Gordon were. He took after their father in looks, except for his piercing blue eyes that were just like John's. Those eyes were currently starting blankly out of his window while he played with something in his hands.

John sat down next to his brother and bumped his knee. "It looks almost calm out there today."

It was, in fact, a rather beautiful day. The faintest breeze was gently moving the palm trees and the ocean looked peaceful. Such a contrast to the mood inside the Villa.

Scott merely grunted in reply, but John was pleased he'd actually been acknowledged. John was the only person who knew what actually happened that day in California when Ethan Grey had kidnapped the Tracy brothers, the only person who understood quite why Scott had never fully recovered. He didn't know all the details - he'd never met the woman before, except for once when he was barely conscious and he still wasn't entirely convinced it wasn't a dream. He didn't know how Scott knew her, or for how long they had been together, but he had seen the fatal fall into the ocean and Scott's subsequent breakdown.

"What's in your head, Scotty?"

John wasn't sure he actually expected Scott to respond. So when Scott passed the small leather strap back over his head and flopped backwards onto the bed, hands folded behind his head, it took John by surprise. A small metal claw lay on top on Scott's chest, glinting in the sunlight.

"I'm torn." The dark haired sibling admitted eventually. "I want to hunt him down, kill him maybe; certainly return him to justice. It's what she would have wanted, it's what he deserves."

John whistled. "I'm not sure I've ever heard you talk like that before, meting out vigilante justice. You are normally the voice of law and order, all about leaving punishment to the legal system."

"Yes, well in this case I'm prepared to make an exception. Besides, we saw how well that has gone." Scott dragged one of his hands down his face. "I thought we were done with this, John."

"Seems like your mind is made up. So why are you torn?"

"I've already lost so much to this man. Too much. What happens if next time it's me? Or worse, one of you? If I do go on a vigilante mission, the cost may be more unbearable than it already is. Maybe if we stay out of it, it will all blow over and we can move on with our lives."

"So what now?"

"Wait and see, I guess. It's good to you to come back early John, but I'm not going to go off the deep end. It brought it all back suddenly, that's all."

"I know you still think about her, Scott. Ever thought of going out, meeting new people, seeing where it goes?"

"Nope. She was it, Johnny, there won't be another."

John simply nodded, he'd known what Scott's answer would be. Scott had never been one to show any particular interest in playing the field, unlike some of his brothers, but over the last two years he hadn't even looked twice at a girl. Much to the disappointment of many a lady when the brothers did get a rare night out.

"Well we'd better go out there and show dad that you aren't suffering too badly. He was pretty worried earlier. This isn't going to be easy for any of us but if we let the police do their jobs hopefully he'll be back behind bars soon."

Scott allowed John to pull him up from the bed, tucking his necklace back inside his polo neck. Neither of them voiced the unspoken question, the question in the minds of all Tracy Island residents that evening.

What if now Ethan Grey was free he decided to finish what he started?


	2. Let’s get the party started

At the same time that Tracy Island was feeling the strain; over in Boston, Massachusetts a young brunette remained blissfully ignorant of the news announcement. Tintin Kyrano was out to celebrate the end of her first stint working on a PhD at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology looking at robotic sentience by enjoying a night out with her friends. Communications had been deliberately blocked, no messages from significant others were allowed tonight. That rule had been enthusiastically introduced and enforced by Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward, one of Britain's aristocratic elite and head of International Rescue's secret agent network.

It was a rule Tintin was beginning to regret now as she was already missing the frequent messages from her boyfriend of over a year, Tracy Island's resident genius Brains. She'd not had a lot of opportunity to see him in person since her studies started in the autumn, but now it was now the beginning of May and tomorrow she would be heading back to the Island permanently to continue the rest of her studies remotely. She would survive without him for one night.

At this point in time, Tintin was more concerned with finding the matching shoe to the one she was carting around the hotel room in her hand. Being several hours ahead of Tracy Island it was already night in Boston and they were going to be late for the meet up with the rest of the party. Her companion, another striking brunette who was busy touching up her make-up in the mirror, watched on with amusement.

"Didn't you have it five minutes ago?" Her companion asked in an English accent.

"I'm sure I did Annie, but now I can't find it anywhere. How did it disappear while I was putting up my hair?"

"Have you checked the bathroom?"

Tintin rushed into it, returning triumphantly. "You're an angel! I'd almost given it up!"

Something about the phrasing caused her companion to frown slightly. "Did it happen again?" Tintin asked her friend with concern.

"No? I mean, not really. I just got a sense of deja-vu for a moment there." Annie had met Tintin the year before, when Tintin's boyfriend Brains spent some time at the hospital in California where she worked as a receptionist. Before that, though, was a mystery to both of them – Annie suffered from amnesia and didn't remember her past life, beyond treatment for a head injury at the Sunbeam Memorial Hospital where she had stayed once recovered. Recently though she had begun to have moments where she thought she might be remembering odd things – but as no one could corroborate them, it could also be a fabrication dreamt up by her healing mind.

Tintin and Annie had stayed in touch after Brains recovered and returned to Tracy Island. Now, Tintin counted Annie as one of her closest friends alongside Lady Penelope. The only problem in Tintin's eyes was that Annie didn't know the secret of International Rescue – at least not openly. Sunbeam Memorial was the hospital the boys all attended if they needed more care than the combination of Tracy Island's sickbay and Virgil's skills could provide. At least one of the doctors there knew their secret as he was a long-time friend of Jeff Tracy. Tintin thought that it was highly likely that Annie had a pretty good idea herself due to her role as the main receptionist, but she had never said a word.

With tonight's moratorium on communication they could forget about International Rescue or work and simply have a good time, which was probably Lady Penelope's intention when creating the rule in the first place.

Finally ready, the pair of brunettes left the hotel room arm in arm. Despite Tintin living in the city for the last few months, Penelope had insisted on providing them with swanky hotel rooms in the city's Back Bay area. The aristocrat had commented on the fact that Tintin's apartment was all packed up and that it was her treat to congratulate Tintin on the conclusion of the residential part of her studies.

And who was going to argue with that?

The four rooms provided for the party, which consisted of Tintin, Annie, Penelope herself and a friend of Tintin's from MIT called Patience, were arranged two each side of the corridor in the hotel. Naturally all were suites – Lady Penelope had arranged them, after all.

Heading to the bar, Tintin could see the rest of the party already there and waiting. Penelope was elegance defined as she sipped from a cocktail glass, blond hair styled and wearing what was probably an expensive designer dress. Next to her stood Patience, tall and slim wearing a brightly coloured print dress reflecting the patterns of her native Nigeria. The two were both individually very striking, but when stood next to each other with their opposite coloration nearly all eyes in the bar were drawn to them. When Tintin and Annie joined the party it only exacerbated the situation. Tintin was small and curvaceous, brunette hair elaborately twisted into an elegant hairdo which accentuated her pretty face and green eyes. Annie was striking in a different way, with light brown eyes and loose brown hair framing her face. She was slightly taller than Tintin and leaner, with a physique that was toned and athletic.

There was a fifth member of their party, sitting unobtrusively to the side and watching the proceedings whilst nursing a rum and coke. He was keeping a discreet eye on them all and would do so throughout their evening. This was Lady Penelope's butler and confidante, Parker.

"Oh Tintin you look simply wonderful!" Lady Penelope was all effusive delight when Annie and Tintin finally reached her, making Tintin wonder exactly how many drinks she'd already had. The aristocrat was finishing her current cocktail, leading to Annie offering to get another round in.

"You must be Annie! I'm delighted to meet you at last, I've heard so many wonderful things about you from Tintin. I would love another martini please, darling."

Yep, Lady Penelope was obviously relishing the opportunity to cut loose with her female friends. Tintin suspected she didn't get the chance to much around the stuffy upper-class circuit that was the cover for her espionage activities. She refocussed as Annie asked her what she would like to drink. "Get me something...fruity! With a silly name."

The other girl smiled. "That I can do. Patience?" Annie and Patience had become acquainted on one of her other visits to see Tintin in Boston, but Penelope had not been able to join them before due to her many commitments. Tintin was incredibly grateful that she had rearranged her diary to make time for this evening.

The tall girl smiled ruefully, waving her glass. "I'm going to have to nurse this one, I'm afraid. Unlike some of us I have a meeting first thing with my supervisor to discuss next year's funding, so I have to have my wits about me." Annie nodded sympathetically.

"That's ok, I can't drink due to the medication I'm on so you won't be alone!" With that she was off to the bar, swaying slightly in tune to the music playing throughout the room. Penelope reached forwards and pulled Tintin into a hug.

"I know I saw you earlier darling, but it really is so lovely to see you again. I can't tell you how much I am looking forward to tonight."

"I'm so glad, Penelope. I am sorry we were so late but Annie's flight was delayed – you haven't been waiting too long?"

"Don't worry at all, Patience and I have been getting along like a house on fire." Lady Penelope threw her new friend a wink. "I've been learning all about MIT and your studies here. It really is a charming city – how would you like to celebrate your birthday with a repeat visit next month?"

"Oh what a wonderful idea, that sounds lovely."

"We'll persuade the boys to come, they can stand down for one night and actually act their age. Would you care to join us, Patience?"

Patience thought hard. "It will depend on when it is, I'm spending some of June doing a placement with Professor Jameson over in Vancouver. It might also depend on what these boys you mention are like!"

"Oh, they are dear colleagues and friends of myself and Brains," Tintin commented. "Though, when they do party they party hard, I'm not sure Boston would actually survive them descending on it Penelope!"

"Good looking? Good manners? Good sense of humour?"

"All three." Penelope nodded emphatically. "Although sometimes the humour leaves a bit to be desired. And there are five of them."

"Dear God," Patience fanned herself with her hand. "Forget Boston, I'm not sure I would survive."

"What are you not surviving?" Annie reappeared with a tray of drinks, duly passing them around.

"The descent of all five Tracy boys on Boston for Tintin's birthday next month." Penny explained, gratefully taking a sip of her drink.

"There are five of them!" Annie looked astounded. "I've only met a couple of them then. Are the rest along the same lines of the ones I met?"

Penelope looked at her curiously. "Which ones did you meet?"

Annie looked at Tintin. "You may need to help me out here. Um... youngish, blond, bit cheeky looking?"

"Alan."

"Right, ok. And a taller, muscular one... brown hair... can't remember eye colour."

Lady Penelope frowned. "Could be either Virgil or Scott. Virgil is heavier set, Scott taller."

"I think it was Virgil," Tintin added helpfully. "I remember him commenting that he met you while we were at Sunbeam."

"Unlucky," Penelope sighed. "Virgil is handsome enough, but Scott's eyes are to die for. Not that I'd ever admit that to his face, of course."

"Of course," Tintin hid her giggle behind her hand. Leaning over to Annie she whispered "It's a not so little secret that Penny has a massive crush on Scott..."

"I see," Annie looked amused. "Well I didn't really get the chance to actually meet them, but if the others have anywhere near the presence of the two I did meet then Boston is in for a treat."

"Amen to that," Patience held up her glass and all four girls chinked, dissolving into giggles as they hatched their plan.

A few seats away, Parker frowned at the message he had just received from Tracy Island informing him that Ethan Grey has escaped. Looking up at the girls, he decided the news would be able to wait until after they'd had their fun. He sighed resignedly as Penelope slipped sideways into Tintin, who giggled and shoved her back. He had a sinking feeling he was in for a long night.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The nightclub was loud and busy, bodies clustered on the dance floor as a holographic DJ encouraged them loudly. Lady Penelope, by sheer force of charisma alone, had managed to secure them a VIP booth so they had a measure of privacy. Parker stood outside keeping guard, acting as an incredibly well dressed bouncer. Penelope and Tintin had moved from cocktails onto champagne, whereas Annie had resolutely stayed away from the alcohol and was now acting as a secondary chaperone to her companions. Patience had long since cried off, citing her early meeting as an excuse.

As they had been for a while now, Penelope and Tintin were loudly discussing their perfect man. This had started quite some time earlier, but the girls hadn't yet run out of steam.

"So, eye colour. A deep dark brown is lovely, but I prefer blue. Crystal blue."

"I wonder why," Tintin sniggered. "It's blue for me too. Annie?"

Annie thought hard. "I think blue as well. A bright blue, like the sky. Of course you'd say blue," she nudged Tintin's arm. "Brains' eyes are blue, aren't they?"

"And?" Tintin pouted. "Hair colour then? I like brown, mousy brown."

"Again, no surprise there," Annie muttered, grinning at Tintin when she waved her finger threateningly. "Hmm... dark. Maybe not quite black, but certainly dark brown." In her mind she could almost see him, the man that haunted her dreams, but she had no idea if he was just a dream or a fragment of a memory.

"Oh careful Penny, she'll be after Scott when she sees him!" Tintin giggled an unnecessary amount at her own joke. Penelope narrowed her eyes at both of her companions while Annie sighed and shook her head.

"I very much doubt it. Now come on, we've been here a while now and we haven't hit the dance floor once!"

Penelope's mood brightened immediately and all three were soon having a blast on the edge of the dance floor, staying close to each other and to Parker to dissuade any young men from intruding on their girls' night. Luckily, Parker's presence did a lot to deter all but the most ambitious suitors from approaching them.

By the time they finally reached the hotel, flagging and footsore, the night was already beginning to fade. Parker bustled all three into their accommodation, although Annie gave up on her own room and simply flopped down on the spare bed in Tintin's suite.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

When Tintin awoke the next morning her head was pounding and she was beginning to regret the second bottle of champagne...or was it the third? Either way, morning was too loud and too bright.

The sound of someone approaching had her blearily trying to open her eyes. "Come on, I have tea..." a voice cajoled, and with a lot of effort and some nausea Tintin managed to prop herself up into a sitting position to accept the cup being offered to her.

"Remind me never to drink again," she groaned, rubbing her painful head.

"I have a painkiller shot here," Annie replied. "All waiting when you want it. Parker dropped it off earlier, I think after seeing to Penny."

"Gimme," Tintin held her hand out and Annie obligingly passed her the shot, a small injectable painkiller that worked almost instantaneously. The effect was impressive, straight away Tintin sat up a bit straighter and her expression cleared. "Thank you," she said gratefully, sipping her tea.

"When are you heading home?"

"I'm being picked up later today, Virgil is coming to collect me. In his plane it's not too far to get home."

"With Brains on-board too, no doubt." The girls shared a smile. "The bond you two have is enviable."

"We'll find you someone too, Annie! You never know, when you meet all of the boys maybe one will take your fancy."

Annie chuckled. "Maybe Tintin! I bring a lot of baggage though."

Tintin gave her friend a hug. "That won't matter when you find the one you're meant to be with. Now, do we have time for breakfast before your flight?"

The two girls got ready relatively quickly. Annie went to find out if Penelope would join them for breakfast while Tintin searched out a large pair of sunglasses to shield her eyes. Finding a second, older pair she had forgotten about stuffed into a bag she grabbed them for Annie.

Meeting in the corridor, both brunettes were kind enough not to laugh at the apparition that was Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward, who was looking very pale behind her oversized shades despite the painkillers. Parker followed discreetly as ever, although when they came closer it was clear he was sniggering quietly.

"Not a word, Parker." Penelope instructed.

"H'of course not, milady." Came the reply. "May h'I escort you all to breakfast? H'I took the liberty of making a reservation at a little place not far from here."

"Oh thank you, Parker; that would be lovely." Tintin smiled gratefully. "But before we go, we must get some photos!"

"To prove we survived?" Annie asked sardonically.

"No! Well, partly, but mostly because I forgot to get any last night, it's my last day in Boston and I want some memories of it to send home. Shades on, ladies."

The three young women, albeit with some reluctance on Penelope's part, all donned their sunglasses and posed in a variety of positions on the way to their brunch reservation while Parker duly took the camera from Tintin and took a variety of photos. The walk took them through the common and into the oldest part of the city where they eventually arrived at a small bistro where they were ushered into a small booth by a smiling waiter.

Flicking through the photos lifted even Penelope's spirits and soon they had selected a few to send to Brains as a morning surprise. The first was of them posing near the pond on Boston Common in an iconic Charlie's Angels pose, Penelope in the centre flanked by the brunettes holding imaginary guns. Then there was one of them lined up along the side of one of the stunning facades that made up Boston's streets and a third candid one where all three girls simply laughed, arm in arm.

"You're a wonderful photographer, Parker," Tintin exclaimed happily, flicking through the rest of the images. The butler spluttered with embarrassment but was secretly very pleased with the compliment.

Brunch was delicious and exactly what they all needed to make them feel better, full of laughter and chat. When they finally went their separate ways and departed Boston – Annie on a flight back to California, Tintin to a private airfield where Thunderbird 2 was expected shortly and Penelope to a function in New York – it was with promises of a return visit soon to celebrate Tintin's birthday.


	3. Tintin’s Return

The morning on Tracy Island dawned bright and cheerful, the air still and the ocean calm. The birds that lived happily amongst the shrubs and trees sang merrily and there wasn't even the whine of an engine to disturb the peace.

Not that Scott Tracy was aware of the beauty of the morning. He hadn't been able to sleep, so had hit the gym instead just as the sun was beginning to rise. He was currently doing pull ups on one of the high bars, his shoulders burning and sweat running down his face. As he finally dropped to the floor of the gym and wiped his face with a towel he saw his closest brother standing in the doorway.

"How long have you been in here for?" John asked, leaning against the edge of the door.

"I don't know," Scott grunted, grabbing a glass of water. "What time is it now?"

"Approaching eight."

"Probably a couple of hours then. I couldn't sleep."

"Dad asked me to find you, I think he wants to make sure you're doing ok. I said you were probably just processing and that you'd come and see him in your own time."

Scott felt a rush of affection. "Thank you. I'm ok, I think. What I really need is a good rescue to take my mind off everything."

The brothers left the gym together, both heading in the direction of the kitchen. "If I were you I'd stay clear of Brains for a while, he's bouncing because Tintin's coming back today. For all us singletons - which is everything else on the Island - it's getting a little bit much."

Scott nodded as he headed to his room to freshen up, while John grabbed a quick coffee before joining his other brothers and Brains in the lounge. Gordon and Virgil were sat on one of the sofas, poring over a digital screen while Brains looked on from one of the easy chairs.

"Hey John," Gordon called, "Tintin's sent over some photos from her night out, wanna have a look?" John took a cursory look at the three photos that all seemed to contain Tintin, Penelope and a brunette he didn't recognise wearing large sunglasses in a variety of poses.

"Looks a bit like the photos must be from the morning after, they're all wearing shades and Penny looks particularly peaky. Who's the other girl?"

"Oh that's Annie," Virgil explained, checking the photos again. "It's Tintin's friend from Sunbeam. She's gorgeous."

"T-Tintin told you she was o-off limits." Brains frowned at Virgil, who spread his hands in a placating manner.

"I'm only looking, Brains. I'm far too scared of your girl to do anything else. I'm looking forward to that night out with them though. If these photos are anything to go by then those girls know how to party!"

"Night out?" John asked confused and it was Gordon that answered.

"Tintin says Penelope's invited us all over to Boston to celebrate Tintin's birthday next month. Dad's said that most of us should be able to make it."

John assumed that 'most' probably didn't include him, as he would be on duty in Thunderbird 5. He didn't particularly mind though, unlike his more outgoing brothers parties weren't particularly his thing. Instead he just asked: "Is Boston ready for a near-complete set of Tracys descending on it?"

Gordon just chuckled while Virgil handed the device with the photos back to Brains. John went in search of his father, who had closed the partition to his study so he could concentrate on running his business.

"Ah, come in John." The head of the Tracy family called, beckoning his second eldest into the room. "Did you find Scott?"

"Hello father. Yes, he was in the gym. He seems ok, a bit stressed but nothing like he was."

Jeff breathed a sigh of relief. "I will admit I was a bit worried there. That news about Ethan was the last thing we need right now. Still, if your younger brothers' biggest concern is whether I'll give them a night off to celebrate Tintin's birthday they can't be taking it too bad."

Jeff stood up from behind his desk and led John into the lounge, where Scott had arrived and was now being regaled with the news of Tintin's imminent arrival. As soon as the pair entered Scott switched his attention to his father, dropping the electronic photos onto a side table without even looking at them.

"Has there been any news?"

"Good morning, Scott. Can someone get Alan on the line, I do have some news. I've had a few bits come through the unofficial channels, from a couple of members of our agent network that also happen to work for the Global Defence Force. They know what our outfit is about and they understand the threat that Ethan Grey poses, given that he knows our true identity and has a reason to hold a grudge against us. They have told me that it does look as though someone from the outside broke him out of prison, that some guards were found unresponsive and glassy eyed."

"Why it sounds like that time at Lake Anasta! The man with the eyes... what was his name?"

"We never found out, Virgil." Jeff continued. "Although we have taken to calling him the Hood, and he has been behind several schemes to disrupt or sabotage International Rescue over the last couple of years."

"And he's never yet succeeded," Scott added. "But now he has an accomplice, who has every reason to want to get revenge on us too."

"Precisely." Jeff looked at all his boys. "However, it will take them time to regroup and plan. I've put all the agents onto high alert, so it isn't something for us to worry about for now. If it is a problem later, we'll have to deal with it then. I want you all to carry on as usual. I'm prepared to let you all head off together to Boston for this shindig Penelope is planning, it will be nice for you to all get a chance to have some fun together. We will test Brains' new monitoring system on Thunderbird 5 for a couple of days to let you all go together for once, and I'll be available if there is an emergency."

"But father, Brains' system is untested."

"J-John is right, M-Mr Tracy. T-There are still some details that I-I haven't quite w-worked out."

"And that's what we have six weeks to figure out. Between the two of you boys, and not discounting Tintin when she's back, I'm sure we can iron out any issues. We need to be able to pull you boys down from Thunderbird 5 for short periods of time without missing anything important - this will give us a way of testing it outside of an emergency."

"F.A.B. Father," John replied. "Brains, I know Tintin is coming home later, so do you want to have a look at it now?"

"S-sure, John." John left the lounge with Brains, already discussing the monitoring system as they headed towards the main laboratory in the Villa.

"Father, I'm receiving a distress call from Ethiopia," Alan was still live on the call, but his attention was now on some of the space station's monitors instead of the lounge. "Two climbers are stuck in a mountain hut in a remote location... hang on while I collect details."

"Very good Alan. Get going Scott, Alan can brief you in the air. Virgil, get ready."

Scott nodded and moved to the abstract painting on the section of wall that concealed the access to Thunderbird 1's hanger. Soon the swimming pool could be seen retracting under the rock and the sound of Thunderbird 1's engines reverberated around the Island.

"Thunderbird 5 to Tracy Island."

"What's the situation, Alan?"

"Seems like the whole mountain hut has slipped down into a ravine, caused by a minor earthquake in the area. It's wedged itself tight. Miraculously, the two climbers inside are pretty much fine but it's a really awkward spot to get them out of. There wouldn't be space for Thunderbird 2 to come within a country mile of them, so I think Scott will have to go alone."

"F.A.B. Alan. Give Scott the details and keep comms open. We can send Thunderbird 2 straight away if he thinks it is necessary."

"Right, father." Alan's image faded from view. Virgil stood up, cracking his back.

"Looks like I'll still be able to go and collect Tintin on time. I'll load up the pod with equipment though, I can always divert as long as I'm heading in the right direction. I guess Brains isn't coming now."

"F.A.B. Virgil. You'd better get going as well, leave Brains to his work – Tintin will see him soon enough. We'll see you back here later."

Virgil nodded and walked to the picture of a rocket that concealed the chute to Thunderbird 2. With a flip of the wall he was gone. Gordon stretched out on the sofa. "Sometimes it's nice to have some space and quiet, y'know?"

Jeff gave his fourth son a glare. "Your Grandma keeps hassling you about your room, maybe now is the time to sort it out."

"But, dad..."

"No buts, Gordon. Go and make yourself useful."

The redhead stalked off, complaining under his breath about being twenty four and still being told to tidy his room. Jeff shook his head and barricaded himself back in his study to work while he waited for news from Scott.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

It took Scott less than an hour to reach the site in the mountains of Ethiopia where a minor quake had loosened some already unstable rock. Alan had described it as miraculous that no one was hurt and Scott had to concur as he hovered nearby, looking down at an intact mountain hut that had simply slithered down into the ravine. It was wedged solidly and the occupants seemed to be unhurt, but due to the awkward angle of the ravine and some overhanging rock traditional rescue vehicles just couldn't access it.

Scott could just about get above it with Thunderbird 1, her sleek shape fitting where a conventional craft couldn't. He was close enough to radio down without the mountains causing interference.

"Hey there, this is International Rescue. I'm gonna get you guys out of there."

"Bonjour! We are very relieved to hear from you, monsieur. My friend and I do not know 'ow we are going to get out."

Scott surmised from the heavy accent that at least one of the climbers was of French origin, but luckily she seemed to speak near perfect English. His grasp of languages was pretty bad, unlike John who could speak at least three fluently.

"If I drop a line, can you take it in turns to strap in? Do you have harnesses or do I need to send one down?"

"Non, we 'ave harnesses, we are 'ere to climb. We are able to do this."

"Swell, we'll go one at a time. I'll drop the line now." Carefully Scott spooled out the cable, keeping a close eye on it to ensure that it didn't swing and hurt the climber or her companion. He could see that they had dressed in their harnesses and were standing in the broken doorway of the hut ready for the line, as soon as it was in reach one of the climbers grabbed it and within seconds was securely attached.

As carefully as he could, Scott manoeuvred the Thunderbird down the ravine and out of the way of the overhang. He could then move upwards, to deposit the climber at the edge of a path where a rescue team was waiting. As soon as she was unclipped, he returned to collect her companion. Within fifteen minutes the rescue was complete and both climbers stood waving goodbye to the craft while being checked over by the medics at the scene. With a return wave, Scott boosted Thunderbird 1 and took off back for home.

"This is Thunderbird 1 calling International Rescue."

"Go ahead, Scott."

"I managed to pick up the climbers father, they were generally ok. Very tight though, I'm not sure how long they would have been there if we hadn't gone – the sides of the ravine were too unstable to climb out and the hut was in a precarious position. It may well have fallen further. But they had all the right kit and moving them was simple enough."

"Good job Scott. Come on home, we'll see you soon."

"F.A.B. father, E.T.A. is approximately 55 minutes."

Scott closed down the communications with Tracy Island, settling himself in for the flight.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Thunderbird 2 loomed large over White County airport, dwarfing the small single seaters that filled the aircraft bays. The sound echoed over the runway, drawing Tintin out from the recreational facility she had been waiting in. She waved up to the cockpit, seeing a small figure raise a hand in greeting. Once the craft had landed, an access hatch opened under the front and stairs descended. Virgil stood at the top, smiling at her.

"I can't let you in through the pod, Tintin, I'm kitted up in case I had to divert on the way."

"Hello, Virgil, it's lovely to see you," Tintin kissed the middle brother on the cheek once she had ascended the stairs. "Was there a rescue then?"

"That's right Tintin, a couple of climbers stuck in Africa somewhere. Scott went to deal with it – apparently there wasn't space for the green giant anyway." He lovingly patted his craft on her side before following Tintin back into the cockpit, retracting the stairs behind them. "I brought some kit just in case, but you now get the World's most exclusive taxi ride back to Tracy Island."

"Oh I can't wait," Tintin giggled. "Will you be making small talk and asking how my day was?"

"I don't need to, I saw the photos you sent Brains. I did add some new options to the refreshment menu though." Virgil waved a hand over at a cabinet to the side of the large cockpit as he readied to take off. Looking over, Tintin could see some tall glasses and champagne – not a usual choice for the pilot of a rescue vehicle.

"I'm not sure I can face champagne ever again after last night!" Virgil laughed heartily and with a roar Thunderbird 2 took to the skies and started her journey home.

Tintin and Virgil caught up on gossip during the flight. It was hardly a secret that Virgil was the gossip king of Tracy Island and Tintin knew that if she wanted to get any good intel she should go to Virgil. Not that Tintin was innocent herself – being quiet and unassuming meant that others were often a bit more likely to talk in her presence.

"Has Penny visited the Island recently, then? She said something about dropping by in a couple of weeks."

"Not so much now Tintin, not half as frequently as she did after the kidnapping. I think she finally has had to devote some time to her own business interests." After the incident where Scott, John and Brains had been kidnapped Lady Penelope was a frequent visitor to the Island, making all manner of excuses to come and liven up the atmosphere. And liven it did, the Island always took on a new level of energy when she visited, so rarely did they have guests. Her visits had mainly been for Scott's benefit, although Tintin secretly suspected Scott was mostly just humouring his family when making the effort to appear more cheerful during her visits.

"How is the rest of the family generally? How is Scott?"

"Scott is... ok, I think. Still gets periods where he doesn't quite seem to be with us, but it isn't as bad as it was. I'm not sure he'll ever be the same again, but he seems happy enough now." Virgil smiled at Tintin and she could see that he looked far less tense than he had before she went to Boston.

"Oh I am glad. He did have us all worried there. When he visited me in Boston it was just so hard to tell how he was feeling really." Tintin helped herself to a lemonade from the drinks Virgil had brought – by the looks of it made by Grandma Tracy herself. She took a second glass over to Virgil.

"You know, you worry about us more than anyone does Tintin!"

"Well someone has to keep you boys in check!" She sat back next to him, sipping her drink and chatting idly about some of her experiences in Boston.

Soon enough, Tracy Island was coming into view. Tintin couldn't help but feel like it was a homecoming, as Virgil banked to approach the runway. She smiled to herself as she saw the trees fold when they came in to land and the cliff opening in front of them to conceal Thunderbird 2 from any prying eyes.

Once they had berthed the green machine, Tintin and Virgil opted to both take the passenger lift back up to the lounge, though as it descended into Thunderbird 2's cockpit they saw that it was already occupied. Virgil rolled his eyes good humouredly as Brains shot out of the lift and gathered Tintin into his arms.

"I'll send it back for you," he called, doubting that they were listening to him in the slightest. With a nonchalant shrug he sent himself back up into the villa alone.

The lounge on Tracy Island was a little more relaxed than it had been when Virgil had departed for the East Coast. He was brought up to speed by his father on the rescue Scott had undertaken. Apparently his oldest brother was home but had decided to go and find some food as he had missed lunch. Gordon and John were having a lively discussion about a recent show that Gordon had recommended and Grandma was fussing over where Tintin was.

"Now, what can be taking that girl so long? I have a new dress that I've made for her, she'll look so lovely in it. But how long does it take to get off a Thunderbird?"

Virgil sat down near to Gordon and John, almost instantly regretting it when Gordon leant over and whispered "Bet you two days of shore leave that they're christening your Thunderbird right now."

"That's wrong on so many levels, Gordon. Besides, there's no way I would take that bet."

"What are you boys talking about." Jeff Tracy, with his well-honed trouble detector developed after years of experience, immediately focussed in on his sons.

"Oh, nothing dad," Gordon's face was the picture of innocence. "Just wondering where Tintin and Brains had got to, that's all."

John was hiding his smirk behind a hand and Virgil was looking as though he was struggling to hold a straight face. Jeff narrowed his eyes at all three boys, but luckily they were spared any further scrutiny by Tintin and Brains finally appearing, red faced and more than a little mussed.

Jeff shook his head and disappeared back into his study. John's sniggering increased and turned into howls of laughter at Grandma's next comment.

"Oh dear Tintin, was it a rough ride? You look a bit peaky." She rounded on Virgil. "You should fly more smoothly when you have passengers. And what is wrong with that boy?" This last comment was directed at John, who had nearly fallen out of his seat with laughter.

"Oh believe me Grandma, I'm not the one responsible for Tintin's rough ride." Virgil managed to keep a straight face as he delivered this line, made harder from the fact Gordon had now started sniggering too.

"Yes, well, thank you Grandma," Tintin sounded flustered. "I'm just going to go and freshen up. Coming Brains? You can fill me in on the news."

"U-uh a-ah yes T-tintin, freshening up."

The pair disappeared from the lounge as suddenly as they had come, almost colliding with Scott who had reached the doorway. The eldest Tracy son looked into the room at his three brothers in convulsing giggles, his frowning and bemused Grandma and his father who was trying to pretend he couldn't hear what was going on, and decided that perhaps he preferred swimming in the outdoor pool instead of reading after all.


	4. Games Night

Tintin's arrival brought a breath of fresh air to Tracy Island and as the days went by with no new information about Ethan Grey the Tracy family began to relax and life on the Island returned to usual. Tintin and Brains were never far from each other, often found in his lab tinkering over something or discussing some of her research. The brunette was a good influence on her studious companion – Brains actually left the lab and came out to the pool area sometimes when Tintin was around. And she was out there a lot, she was making the most of the tropical sunshine she'd missed out on in Massachusetts.

Having a woman that wasn't Grandma around made a difference to the atmosphere as well, without even realising it the boys were a little bit cleaner and tidier. Grandma was in her element as she altered several of Tintin's dresses, chatting idly to her and catching up on gossip. Even Jeff seemed softer around the edges, doling out his rare smiles much more frequently.

Tintin had quickly been informed of the escape of Ethan Grey. She had been able to tell that a shadow had fallen over the Island and when she heard the news her concern centred on Scott. The eldest Tracy son had good humouredly put up with her fussing for a day or so before reassuring her that he was, in fact, coping well enough.

"I'm alright Tintin, don't you worry about me."

"Oh but Scott we all know what a terrible man he is. I can't help but wonder what he is going to do next."

"Let's hope that whatever it is, it doesn't involve International Rescue." Scott pulled the younger girl in for a hug and kissed the top of her head. "It'll be ok, Tintin. We'll be prepared now if he does do anything, he'll be back in jail in no time."

"I do hope you're right, Scott." Tintin leaned against the balcony rail and looked up at the sky. She had been back on Tracy Island for about a week now and never tired of the views, day or night. "I didn't realise how much I would miss Tracy Island until I was gone."

"We've missed you too Tintin, it wasn't the same without you around." As he spoke Scott realised quite how true that was. It may have only been eight months or so since Tintin started her research at MIT but the Island was duller without her presence.

His thoughts were interrupted by a shout from the lounge.

"Scott, Tintin, are you going to join us?" Gordon was calling out at them as he spread out an old fashioned board game on one of the small tables, pulling chairs close around it. Scott's eyes widened in alarm.

"I thought we'd destroyed that!"

"Nope," Gordon sounded triumphant. "I managed to salvage it. Who's up for a game?"

"I'll join you Gordon, it looks fun." Tintin was held back by Scott's hand at her elbow. "What is it, Scott?"

"Are you sure, Tintin?" His look was intense as he stared straight into her eyes.

"Why Scott, it's just a board game. Why so serious?"

The man shrugged, letting her go. "On your head be it, don't say I didn't warn you."

With some confusion and no little amount of trepidation, Tintin went into the lounge. John had also been roped in by Gordon, the trio sat around the small table while Gordon informed them of the rules.

Virgil joined Scott on the balcony. "Did you tell her?"

"I tried to. I don't think she took me seriously. Did you warn John?"

"Nah." At Scott's look, Virgil shrugged. "He's lived with Gordon for years, he should know better than to play any board game with him by now. Particularly that one."

Scott couldn't deny the logic of that and both brothers turned to watch Gordon gesticulating wildly while Tintin and John looked bemused. "What set of rules is he using this time?"

"No idea. They get more elaborate each time. Which version is he playing?"

Scott peered over to look at the board. "Classic, I think. Oh no, wait, the UK one. Interesting choice. Drink?"

"Definitely."

"Scotch?"

Virgil pulled a face. "No chance. The stuff's disgusting. A glass of wine will do me fine, thanks."

Scott moved past the board game to the drinks cabinet, pausing in the open doorway to his father's study. "Would you like a drink, father?"

Jeff looked at the time before standing and cricking his neck. "Yes please son, I hadn't realised it was getting so late. What are you all up to?"

"Virgil and I are just chatting out here; Brains is in his lab; Grandma and Kyrano are in the gardens and Gordon, Tintin and John are setting up a board game."

Jeff blanched. "Not...?"

Scott nodded solemnly. "Yes, that one. I'd recommend evacuation while you still can." The pair looked over to the small table, where Gordon was finishing his instructions. John had a glazed look on his face while Tintin looked bemused.

"You know... it's a lovely evening for a stroll on the beach." Jeff took the proffered glass of scotch from Scott. "Only call me if there are physical injuries." He paused and thought for a second. "No, scratch that, don't even call me then."

Once Jeff had gone, Virgil took up his position by his easel and Scott retrieved some engineering design concepts that Brains had produced for Thunderbird 1 upgrades. The question wasn't whether they would be installed, but which would be produced and installed first. He managed to engross himself in the designs and ignore most of what was happening around him. For a while, at least.

Having made up his mind about the designs and vowing to speak to Brains about it in the morning, Scott turned his attention back to the rest of the room. The atmosphere was tense. All three were hunched over the board; John with his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth in concentration, Tintin with a frown creasing her forehead and Gordon with a level of intensity only seen when he was in Thunderbird 4 on a rescue. Scott ambled over, almost immediately regretting it.

"Shhhhhhhhh," this came from Gordon. "We don't need your input."

Scott gestured in a placating manner. "I was just coming to watch."

"Well don't," John waded in. "You're distracting. And Gordon is just about to make his mind up. He can't think with you lurking."

Scott first looked to Tintin, but she was too engrossed to pay him any attention so instead he turned to Virgil and mouthed 'lurking?' while Virgil smothered a giggle.

"I heard that!" Gordon snapped. "And the answer is no, John."

"Oh come on!" The blond cried in frustration. "I'm offering Bond Street - Bond Street! - for your measly Marlborough Street. It's worth double the amount of money."

"But then you'll trade Trafalgar Square to Tintin for Vine Street and you'll have a set." Gordon replied, giving both of them a stink eye. "And Tintin just needs a lucky roll before she does too and then you'll gang up on me."

"Um...Gordon..."

"No, Tintin! I don't want to hear about it! Betraying me, with my older brother no less. I thought we had a truce when I traded the King's Cross with you, only for you to stab me in the back."

"Gordon, don't you think that..."

"Quiet!" The redhead hissed, glaring at Scott for the intrusion. "You want to help them out, I know. Just because Tintin's pretty and John is the closest to you in age."

Virgil wasn't even trying to pretend not to be laughing now, his paint brush shaking so violently that he had to put it down. Scott backed away slowly, wary of the maniacal glint in Gordon's eye. He tactically retrieved a bottle of rum and a mixer, leaving it within reaching distance of John but not Gordon. "You may need this," he muttered, backing away. He waved to Virgil to show that he was going to turn in and as he headed out he saw John pick up the bottle and swig it neat.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The next morning Scott hit the gym early, joining Virgil who was already shifting weights. They worked side by side for a while, silently trying to outcompete each other in a friendly manner before Scott had to concede graciously. He may be the tallest sibling but Virgil was definitely the strongest, his muscular frame perfectly suited for the heavy lifting. In that way, the middle brother was well suited to his Thunderbird craft.

Once they'd packed away the weights, the pair walked together back to their rooms to grab showers. "Did you stay much later?" Scott asked, curious how long Virgil had put up with the game the night before.

"Not really, it started getting messy not long after you left." Virgil towelled some sweat off his face as he glared at his brother. "Did you have to give them spirits?"

Scott merely shrugged. "They would have found them with or without my help."

Virgil couldn't deny the truth of that and settled for giving his older brother a quick fist pump as they went into their respective rooms. Naturally, all the rooms in Tracy Villa had en-suites - necessary for when they all returned from particularly gruelling missions at the same time.

Once Scott was clean and dry he went in search of breakfast. Cereal in hand, he wandered into the lounge to find his father. He stopped in the doorway, slightly speechless at the sight in front of him. John was lying, snoring, on the sofa. His long legs were hanging off the end of it and he clutched a board to his chest. His makeshift bed was almost the only piece of furniture left intact, all the others were lying around as though tossed in a storm. Covering the floor were the strewn remnants of the game and what appeared to be a broken glass and...glitter? Gingerly Scott picked his way through to the study, swearing quietly when he stood on a particularly vicious small red hotel.

His father was reading the morning paper. "Oh, come in Scott," he beckoned when seeing his son's figure appear. "I take it you had nothing to do with that?" Jeff waved in the direction of his trashed lounge.

"No, not at all. How did you guess?"

"You're awake, for one. I haven't seen anyone else emerge this morning yet except Kyrano, who I've instructed to keep clear. They can clean that mess up themselves."

"Virgil was in the gym with me, he turned in not long after I did last night." Jeff grunted at Scott's words, holding out the paper to him on the digital pad he read it on during the days without an early supply plane.

"Here, I've read this already. Not much of interest today. Good looking puzzle section though." Jeff routinely handed his papers - whether actual or electronic - over to his boys for the puzzles. John, maybe unsurprisingly, loved a general knowledge quiz and the jumbo crossword. Virgil loved the various word games, Alan the logic puzzles and Gordon was surprisingly good at the cryptic crosswords. It must have been something to do with the unusual way his brain worked. Scott enjoyed doing the sudoku, particularly if it was one of the more unusual variants. Today's offering was a giant sudoku, four smaller ones surrounding a central one that all had overlapped boxes.

"That's swell, father. Thank you."

"Can you go find out what state the others are in? I'm not particularly concerned about Gordon, but I'd like to make sure Tintin is ok."

"Sure thing." Scott navigated back out through the lounge, past the lightly snoring John and into the corridor. Deciding to try to find Tintin first, he headed downstairs towards her room but as he was approaching it she emerged from the next door along the corridor.

"Good night last night?" He asked. Tintin didn't actually look too bad, far better than he'd expected.

"Oh, I left not that long after Virgil. I was bankrupt anyway and things were beginning to get a bit tense for me. I went to see how Brains was getting on instead."

"I can see that. Good morning, Brains." Scott called to the sleepy engineer, who emerged from the door behind Tintin. Both Brains and Tintin flushed scarlet as they passed to go get breakfast, offering to put the coffee pot on for Scott.

He chuckled to himself when they left. "Those two are just adorable. Now, Tintin's fine, John's out cold in the lounge which just leaves Gordon." With some trepidation Scott went back upstairs and approached the room of his second youngest brother. He tried knocking but got no answer, so he opened the sliding door to check that nothing was amiss.

The sight of his brother nearly made Scott laugh out loud. Gordon had managed to pull all his bedding off of his bed and had made a nest with it. The aquanaut himself was curled up in the middle, clutching paper money to his chest. The money had gone everywhere and some was stuck to his face while the rest was lost in the bedding. Scott rolled his eyes fondly and left Gordon to it, although not before taking some incriminating photos.

After informing his father that his sibling was alive after all, Scott left the lounge and made his way downstairs to the games room. It was quiet, no one else using it, so Scott pulled out the tablet and started making inroads on the puzzle from the paper whilst sitting in one of the chairs that sat around the edge of the room. Kyrano popped his head in with a coffee after a short while, smiling at the sight of the eldest Tracy concentrating hard on his task.

It was mid-morning when John appeared at the entrance of the room. "Fancy a quick game?" The blond asked, inclining his head towards the pool table.

"Sure," Scott replied, putting down his nearly completed puzzle and joining his brother. "How are you feeling?"

"Remind me never to play that with Gordon again. I feel terrible this morning and I've had to clean up after last night. Those blasted houses get everywhere."

"I keep taking the games away from him, but he either sniffs them out or somehow manages to get hold of another version. It's like he has an endless supply." Scott shook his head, lining up his first shot.

John was busy chalking up his cue. "He has one less now. I've thrown that version in the trash. It was basically trash anyway after Gordon upended it into a bottle of gin last night."

"Didn't stop you hugging it in your sleep."

John eyed his older brother as he stooped to take a shot. "I was trying to stop it being used as an offensive weapon. Sue me."

John's shot went wide, the white ball ricocheting around the table before sinking itself in a corner pocket. He rubbed his eyes while he stopped back from the table. "I don't know why I even try."

Scott just laughed at him. "Come on, baby brother. You normally play better than that. Space must have really gotten to you this time."

They played in silence for a while, Scott absolutely trouncing the hungover John. When Scott finally sinked the black, John breathed a sigh of relief. "That was embarrassing."

"It could be worse," Scott sympathised, putting his arm around the blond's shoulders. "Someone could have taken photos of you before you woke this morning."

John gasped, horrified. "You didn't?!"

"Not of you. Gordon, though..." Scott produced the evidence and the brothers laughed about it as they walked back up to the lounge to re-join the rest of their family.


	5. Demolition

A few days later, Scott was relaxing by the pool with his trusty book when his glass of water, placed on the small table next to his lounger, starting shrieking loudly. With a curse he leapt up and glared at the offending object, which was also now flashing a variety of colours caused by miniaturised neon lights hidden in the rim. Shaking his head he closed his book and made his way up to the lounge, muttering about how his father and Brains had taken the alert system too far, particularly when they all had perfectly good watches to communicate with.

By the time he reached the lounge he realised he was the last to arrive. His three brothers, Brains and Tintin all crowded around his father's desk with Alan joining them from space. As soon as Scott entered, Jeff turned to him.

"Scott, suit up and get going. There has been a building collapse in South-Eastern Europe, a former factory that was derelict but has been used by squatters for some time. There were people still present when it collapsed and they are now trapped. Alan will brief you further on your flight. I'll be sending Virgil with you."

"F.A.B., father." Scott moved over to Thunderbird 1's concealed entrance, pulling on the carefully place lighting fixtures to rotate the door. He then stood still as the gantry extended to provide quick access to the aircraft's cockpit. Climbing in quickly, he changed his International Rescue outfit while Thunderbird 1 moved into her launch position. Engaging thrusters with a roar, the great aircraft took off, bursting out of the retracted pool and taking off into the skies.

Once Scott reached altitude, he switched to horizontal flight and picked up the bearing that Alan supplied him with. It would take him around an hour at top speed, so he requested details from Alan as he flew. Apparently the old factory was due to be demolished to make way for a new apartment complex, but after all the charges had been laid it was discovered that there were several groups of people living inside it. Scott had some choice swear words for demolition companies that didn't check the buildings for occupants first. There had then been a large thunderstorm, common in the area at this time of year. The upshot was that one of the charges had detonated prematurely, collapsing a part of the building and rendering the rest extremely dangerous. It had also managed to cut off the avenues of escape for the remaining occupants that hadn't already evacuated, at least two groupings by all accounts.

The rescue crews on site couldn't access the building because of the live charges, which could not be disarmed remotely - another cost saving exercise by the demolition company. So, in effect, the whole building was a ticking time bomb waiting to explode - with several innocent people trapped inside.

Scott knew as he approached that this would be one of the most difficult situations that International Rescue had ever operated in. Through liaison with base he learnt that all three of his Earth-bound brothers were attending in Thunderbird 2, with John poised to take command of mobile control so that Scott could be freed up to support the rescue efforts.

"Thunderbird 1 to International Rescue."

"Go ahead, Scott."

"I've arrived at the danger zone, father. It...doesn't look good. I'm going to set up mobile control on the west side of the building, where local police are congregated. It looks the safest place for Thunderbird 2 as well, it has the best footing."

Not looking good was an understatement. The old factory was huge, but the front centre was completely caved in where the main entrance would have been. Even as Scott came into land he could see falling masonry, where the earlier explosion had triggered a domino effect on the already fragile structure. One gust of wind would be all it took to collapse the rest, with all the people and a lot of explosives still trapped inside.

Surrounding the factory was old equipment, strewn around the grounds. To the rear there was a steep hill that led down to a lake, likely a former runoff for water. The only clear space was the former car park in front of the facility, near the worst of the damage.

It took a matter of minutes for Scott to deploy Mobile Control. That done, he went in search of the current site commander of the rescue crews. There were a smattering of police cars, ambulances and fire trucks alongside some vehicles that had a military bearing. The army must have been called in which was usually a good sign, it showed that the country was taking it seriously.

He was immediately waved through into a hastily erected tent, where a man with military bearing was in discussion with what looked like the fire chief and a senior policeman. They stopped their discussion when Scott entered the room, the military man coming over and grasping Scott's hand with both his own before rattling off a string of words Scott didn't understand.

Seeing the confusion, the policeman spoke up in broken English. "Apologies, sir, General Farkas does not speak English. He is very relieved that you have come, as we are."

"We're just hoping we can help. Excuse me a moment." Scott turned away to speak into his watch. "Thunderbird 1 to Thunderbird 5, can you get me a translation Alan?"

"Sure thing Scott, just hooking you up now. And... you're good to go."

"F.A.B." Scott turned back to the waiting people. "Can you give me the situation please?"

There was a collected sigh of relief when Scott's words were translated for them. The fire chief began to brief, her posture suggesting a military bearing prior to her current role. "We have had confirmation of two groups inside. One is on the third floor, centre-left of the building as you face it from here. They have sheltered in an old washroom facility and so have access to water, although it is unlikely to be clean or sanitary. They were cut off from the area they inhabited when the charge detonated. The second group are on the fifth floor, out of eight. They are to the rear of the building, but the part they have inhabited does not have external windows as it was once a secure laboratory. They remain with their belongings but any escape route is blocked. The only access now is through a service elevator, used to transport components through the different floors. However, the explosion triggered the security doors which were wired to a back-up solar powered system, so even once the elevator shaft is located and climbed there is a ten inch wide security door that needs to be breached."

Scott swore, the situation seemed near impossible. The only thing that could make it worse was...

"One other thing of importance to note is that the two groups are both family groups, there are children and infants present although we have not been able to ascertain their condition at this time."

...that. That made it a whole lot worse. Scott nodded his thanks to the fire chief for her thorough briefing and turned back to his watch. "Thunderbird 1 to Thunderbird 2."

"I'm here Scott," his brother's voice crackled across the unit. "Alan opened the channels so I could hear it. Kids, huh?"

"Sounds like, and we have no idea what state they're all in. What's your ETA?"

"I'll be at the danger zone in approximately twelve minutes, Scott."

"F.A.B. We're going to need to work fast and careful here. I think we need to split up - two of us heading to the former laboratory while the other goes to the restroom."

"Copy Scott." The line went quiet for a moment. "Gordon says he'll take the restroom group, we can then try to free the ones in the lab. We're going to need a vehicle with a hoist and the oxyhydrite gas cutters."

The fire chief waved at Scott to get his attention. "You must not take in a vehicle, the whole building is very fragile and too many tremors could cause additional charges to detonate."

"Did you copy Virgil? It will have to be hoverjets."

"F.A.B. Scott. Approaching danger zone now."

Thunderbird 2's engines could be heard in the distance. Scott spoke with the fire chief and the general to find out more information. As Virgil, John and Gordon disembarked, driving hoverjets out of the pod that made up the belly of the green giant, Scott walked over to meet them. Virgil handed him a protective suit while John relinquished his hoverjet.

"This should give you some protection. What's the score?"

"The group holed up in the restroom are thought to consist of three adults and a child. Age unknown but somewhere between five and ten. You should be able to get there without a hoverjet Gordon, one of the pillars that formed the facade at the front has collapsed and provides a ramp pretty close to their location. If you can get the trapped people to the top of the pillar the General will have his people rig up a pulley and harness to bring them down safely."

"F.A.B. Scott. I'll get started now." Gordon took the hoverjet and went to confirm the evacuation with General Farkas. John followed on foot as he would be relaying communications between Gordon and the General once the redhead was inside the building.

"What about the others, Scott?" Virgil and Scott travelled together to the front of factory, Virgil's eyes wide as he took in the scene.

"They are going to be much harder." Scott said grimly. "We can get in through a back entrance but the quickest route with then be up the supply elevator. Until we reach it we're going to be travelling through the floor with the explosives, so we'll need to be careful. We will then need to get up five floors and through the security door. The general suggested that once we find them we tunnel through the external wall if possible and lower them down the outside." He paused as he pulled on his protective head covering. "They think it's a group of six Virgil, three of which are children and possibly infants."

Virgil whistled through his teeth. "Are they unhurt?"

"They don't know, the only intel they've had is from some of the other squatters who managed to get out."

"Right, well we'll need to be prepared for anything then." Virgil squared his shoulders. "So where is this entrance?"

"Around the back," Scott gestured to the police chief, waiting patiently near the side of the factory. "He will escort us." The brothers turned their hoverjets towards the figure waiting patiently and followed his directions around the side of the building. As they did so they could see Gordon scoping out how to reach the restroom containing the other family from the collapsed building front.

The explosion had further weakened the already fragile building and as Scott and Virgil travelled around it small pieces of masonry and rock could be seen falling from the structure. It creaked in the gentle breeze, not building their confidence for what they would find inside.

Eventually they came to a small door, obviously once a fire escape or similar. It took Virgil next to no time to cut out the lock using the oxyhydrate gas cutters. They carefully pushed it open, keeping deathly quiet as though not to disturb the factory looming above them.

Inside it was a mess. The fire escape opened into a corridor that was filled with dust, small particles were still drifting down from the ceiling. "This thing could collapse at anytime," Virgil muttered as they carefully hovered down the corridor. "Have you got directions for us, John?"

"Hey Virgil, I've been given a floor plan. To get to the service elevator you need to follow the corridor for approximately fifty yards. There should be a canteen you pass to the left and then you take the double doors opposite it into an office space. At the back of the office is a store room of sorts - you'll be able to get through a door into it. The service elevator is there."

"F.A.B. John." The pair continued down the corridor, Virgil leading in single file on the hoverjet with Scott close behind. Soon Virgil slowed. "Reckon that's the canteen?' He asked, looking through a broken set of double doors. Inside was a large amount of rubble from the destruction so far, but also a range of small plastic chairs and tables. What looked like an old serving hatch was arranged along one of the sides, but beyond the roof had caved in over what was presumably the kitchen.

"Looks like it," Scott replied. "Look, that must be some of the explosive charges!" Placed along the side opposite the serving hatch lay a pile of canisters, electrical wiring connecting them. Although they were now covered in dust and debris from the earlier collapse the hazard signs were just about visible to the brothers.

"Geez, there's enough there to send this place into orbit!" Virgil hissed. "What were they doing?"

"It's no good worrying about that now. Come on." Scott led the way this time, through a set of double doors opposite the canteen. He could tell immediately that they were in what was once a large open plan office. Most of the desks were broken or missing, but enough remained to see its former purpose. Every twenty yards there was a pillar connecting floor to ceiling, many of which were surrounded by more explosives.

"Careful Scott," Virgil murmured as they slowly inched their way across with the hoverjets. "One wrong move here and we're going sky high."

Scott didn't reply, too busy trying to pick the route that kept them as far as possible from the explosives and away from the wires. It was slow progress, not helped by the occasional drift of dust falling from the ceiling as the building creaked around them. Eventually they made their way across, having managed not to trigger any of the charges as they did so. They soon found the store room Alan had mentioned, filled with old shelves and crates. Here, unlike the rest of the building so far, there were signs that someone had been there fairly recently. Footprints criss-crossing the space were visible in the dust and some of the equipment on the shelves looked relatively new.

"Seems like someone has been here before us," Scott commented, looking at one of the shelves. "I wonder if it was the people who are now trapped? These are mostly just domestic items."

"You could be right there," agreed Virgil, casting his eyes over the tinned food and bottles of water. "Maybe they used this service elevator as their main access before the security door tripped?"

It was easy to follow the jumble of prints to the service elevator and the doors already stood slightly ajar. Dismounting from his hoverjet, Virgil grabbed hold of one of the two doors, braced his foot against the other and heaved until it pulled backwards and the shaft was revealed. Scott shone a torch up and down, finding the remains of the elevator in a crumpled heap a couple of floors below.

"Damn, there goes our ride."

"Grapples?"

"Sure, but I can't see how far up this goes Virgil. I don't know if they'll be long enough." Scott shone his torch up the lift shaft, struggling to make out anything in the darkness.

"Well the building is only eight storeys, right? If we assume four yards per storey, which is a good amount, that's still only just over thirty and these ropes are fifty. Should be fine."

"Well I guess we've got no choice. Let's just hope the ropes take our weight and that of the oxyhydrate gas canisters." Virgil leaned in next to Scott and, guided by the torch as much as he was able to be, fired one of the grappling guns into the darkness. There was a reassuring thunk when it connected and the rope held firm.

"One down," muttered Scott, taking aim and firing next to his brother. This time, there was a clatter and the end of the grapple came sailing back past them and down into the elevator shaft. As it did so, there was another groan from the building and more dust fell from the ceilings.

"We don't have time for this," Virgil fired his spare gun and had more success, this time the grapple held and two ropes now hung down the elevator shaft.

"Good shooting Virgil." Scott looked at the hoverjets sadly. "Guess we'll be leaving these here."

Virgil was already strapping the gas canisters of the cutting equipment to his back. "This is going to be quite the workout with this weight on us."

Scott grunted as he did the same. The brothers then clipped onto the ropes and started guiding themselves up the shaft, feet walking up the side whilst hands pulled up the ropes. It was slow going, it would be difficult to climb five storeys in the dark elevator shaft anyway but carrying the cutting equipment made it all much harder. More than once Scott felt his foot slip or dislodge some rubble, causing him to jolt uncomfortably and rely on his harness to save him. From muffled swear words coming from Virgil he could tell his brother was in the same situation.

It was difficult to keep track of how far they had climbed, there wasn't an access hatch on every floor. It felt like they had been climbing forever when Alan's voice came over the intercom to tell them they had reached the right floor. Arms and legs burning, they nevertheless now had to cut through the doors blocking their way. Shining the torch beam around to orientate themselves, they could see a small set of doors in the shaft. The doors weren't large enough to accommodate a standing human but must have instead been used to ferry parts around.

"Guess we've found the place," Virgil commented, a bead of sweat rolling down his brow. "You take left side while I take right?"

"F.A.B.," Scott replied and they got to work with the oxyhydrate cutters. They made swifter progress through the doors than Scott was expecting, although very soon the reason became clear. The first hole cut away and dropped down the shaft with a lot of noise, revealing another barrier in its place.

"Great, just great." Virgil muttered, taking up position once again with the cutter. This time it was taking much longer to cut through. They'd only reached about the half way point when the building around them moved with a loud groaning noise, causing more debris to fall and both brothers to hold their breath. Luckily it finally settled down and the brothers could return to their task, but with an increased sense of urgency.

"That was the biggest one yet, this building is going to come down around us. Let's hurry it up, Virgil."

After what felt like an age they were nearly through, with a loud clang the centre of the hole they cut fell away from them to lie on the floor beyond. There was a hole left that was just big enough to get through. Scott kicked off with his feet, swung and then grabbed the edge of the hole. Virgil went to do the same, but on the swing the rope suddenly dropped as the grapple came loose at the top of the shaft. Arms waving wildly, he lunged for the hole in the wall just as the grapple fell, but missed - and instead felt his arm caught by his older brother, whose face was showing the strain of holding on to both Virgil and the cutting equipment. Behind him the noise of the grapple falling down the shaft came up to them, bouncing off the walls all the way down.

With a heave and Virgil's help Scott managed to pull his brother through the hole and for a moment they both lay on the floor, catching their breath. "That was too close," Virgil started and Scott could only nod in agreement. "Come on then." Virgil helped haul his older brother to his feet and then slowly turned, illuminating the room. They couldn't see anyone, but there were lots of places where a person could be concealed. Tall lab benches stood everywhere, some with fabrics draped between them in makeshift tents. Lots of equipment lay scattered about, although much looked as though it had been used recently. "Well there were people here... but where are they?"

Scott panned his torch around, noticing that there was no natural light in the laboratory. He did a double take, as he thought he saw something move. "Virgil, over there!"

A small figure darted away from the beam and further back into the laboratory. Scott and Virgil followed slowly, each checking down between each row of benches in case there was someone injured or hiding. They reached the far end of the laboratory and realised it continued off at ninety degrees. There was a faint light emanating from the far end so the brothers continued their slow progress towards it.

Another shudder rained ceiling tiles and dust down on them. There was small scream from the back of the room, causing Scott to jog forwards while Virgil continued the slow check to make sure they hadn't missed anyone.

As Scott approached the light he could see a small group huddled together. One small child was gesticulating and saying something rapidly in a language that Scott couldn't understand. A man stood at the front wielding a length of metal. On the floor behind him sat two women, both looked terrified. A second child was peeking from behind one of the women. Scott spread his hands in a gesture of piece and placed the torch down so it didn't blind anyone but illuminated the area.

As soon as the man saw the International Rescue uniform he lowered the makeshift weapon and surged forwards, grabbing Scott's hands in relief and talking at him so quickly even the translator couldn't keep up. Eventually Scott managed to work out that the man was related to both the women, one was his sister and one his wife. He had been a university lecturer until his brother-in-law and parents had been killed in a conflict a year or so before, the family had been forced to flee taking only what they could carry. That is what had led them here, which was a safe place to live until today. By the time they had realised the danger they were in it was too late to escape.

Scott looked around. "Is this everybody? We had been told there were six people here."

The man, Armen, nodded. "Yes - myself, my sister and her son, my wife and our two children."

"Two children?" Scott began to question, but a soft cry answered it for him. One of the women had been clutching what Scott thought were some of her belongings, but he now realised was an infant child. A hot rage that any family should have been reduced to living like this filled him, but he stamped down on it. Time to think about that later. Now was all about getting out of here alive.

Virgil had come up alongside. "There is no one else here." His expression was tight and his voice curt. Scott knew the same anger at the injustice that he felt would likely be amplified in his more sensitive younger brother. There was no time to dwell on it though, as another tremble shook the building around them.

"Mobile control," Scott spoke into his wrist watch. "Is there an external wall we can blast through to get out of here?"

"Approximately 40 yards north of you, Scott." Came the reply. "You'll need to be quick, they estimate you only have a few minutes until the building comes down now."

"F.A.B. John, how is Gordon getting on?" Virgil was already moving to the wall John had indicated, scanning it to find out a safe place to get through.

"Gordon finished up a couple of minutes ago, Scott. He's just debriefing the local crews now."

"Great, can you get him to set up a safe place for us to evacuate to? We're going to have to lower down the outside of the building, it's too unstable to go back the route we came and there are small children here."

Scott could hear a muffled curse followed by some distant shouting. "Ok Scott, Gordon's on it. There is a depression approximately one hundred yards from the side of the building towards the lake, if you aim for that it will shield you from the worst of the blast and debris when this thing goes. Hurry it up Scott, you haven't got long."

"F.A.B." Scott moved over to where Virgil was just finishing up the scan. "What do we have?"

Virgil ran his hand over a particular point on the wall. "Here. There are no major struts or electrics, provided the cutters get through the wall we should be able to kick it outwards."

Virgil started cutting, the light from the oxyhydrate gas almost blinding in the darkness. Scott relayed the plan to the family and managed to encourage them closer to Virgil so that as soon as the wall was gone they could excavate. Virgil was making good inroads on the wall, but then his gas started to splutter.

"Oh no, it's running low!"

"Quick Virgil, let me take over." The building gave another ominous groan, along with a shudder that was greater than anything felt thus far. Scott could feel himself beginning to sweat with nervousness that they wouldn't be able to make it, reinforced by yet another shake.

"Move out the way Scott," Virgil called. Holding onto an overhead hoist, Virgil jumped and planted both feet in the centre of the wall they were cutting. At first nothing happened, but then with a creak it peeled open like a can and went crashing away to the ground outside. Daylight flooded into the room, causing cries of delight from the family.

Shielding his eyes, Scott looked down the side of the building and swore. It was a long way to go down. Virgil appeared next to him. "We only have one grapple left," the younger brother stated grimly.

"Right. You'll go first Virgil, take one child with you. We'll set the grapple up as a pulley and I can lower you down. We can then do the same for Armen with the second child, his wife with the infant and then his sister by herself. I'll be able to abseil myself down behind you and make sure everyone is safe."

"F.A.B." Virgil looked tense. Scott wasn't surprised, he felt tense. Another tremor shook the building as he shot the remaining grapple into one of the steel supports. He pulled the line down so that Virgil could clip into the end.

Virgil secured one of the children to his harness and walked over the edge of the building. "Be seeing you," he quipped, before his face disappeared from view and he began walking the very long way down the side.

Scott slowly let out the rope, standing well back to get as much leverage as possible. It seemed to take forever for it to go slack, when Scott knew Virgil had reached the bottom. Two sharp jerks on the rope was the signal to reel it back in, as the end of the rope reached the hole in the wall Scott saw that Virgil had taken off his harness and attached it to the rope for the next casualty.

It took some persuasion for Ahmed to descend next and leave the women behind, but Scott reasoned that he was the only one strong enough to take the second child, a young girl of six or seven years of age. Eventually Scott wrestled him into the harness and he too was stepping over the edge of the wall.

Again, the harness was attached as the rope came back up. Scott turned to Armen's wife and was about to get her into the harness when the strongest tremor yet shook the building. This time, it wasn't just dust that came down from above as the ceiling itself caved in, forcing the woman backwards with her infant cradled in her arms.

Scott tried to see her through the dust, but there was now a large piece of concrete in the way. He could hear the child crying so he knew at she was probably alive but he couldn't easily get to her. With more swear words he turned to the sister instead and indicated that she should go first. With a frightened look at the concrete she complied despite the tears trailing down her face and was soon at the bottom. This time, Scott waved over the edge at Virgil.

"Get moving Virgil, there's been a collapse up here and I need to free the rest. I don't need you to send the harness up again so get them to safety."

Virgil signalled that he had heard, beginning to usher the group away from the building.

Scott tried to climb back through the building across the collapsed section but it was difficult work. It was now so unstable that it was moving continuously, distant roaring indicating where parts of the structure were disintegrating under the strain. Praying to whoever was listening that the charges didn't detonate he continued on, stumbling across the lady not far from the edge. She had tripped and fallen, clutching the baby to her chest protectively. Terrified eyes looked up at Scott as he reached her, helping her up and leading her back to the edge. Once there, Scott secured the end of the rope to the grapple and tied the woman and her baby to himself.

"We're out of time," he told her seriously, relying on the translator to do its work. "We're going to have to abseil together."

She nodded once and they were over the edge, creeping down the side of the building. Taking two and half people down in a single abseil was risky and Scott had to work very hard to control the descent. His arms burned but he carried on, focussing on getting to the bottom safely and nothing else.

As soon as they touched the ground he untied them both and helped the lady towards the safety of the depression John had mentioned. He could see that the others were already there, but it seemed so far away. Then, the sound he had been dreading reached his ears – a roaring sigh as the building began to collapse.

"Scott, it's going!"

He didn't need John's urgent message to know the situation. Scott did the only thing he could do, he swung the woman and her child up into his arms and pumped his legs as fast as he could towards safety. As he reached the bank he pushed her in front of him, down the small bank into the depression that should protect them from the worst of the blast. He was just about to follow when the charges finally detonated, the blast wave catching him and propelling him forwards. Helpless, he was flung through the air until something connected hard with his head and his world went black.


	6. Grounded

It was dark, very dark. Why was it so dark? Scott tried to open his eyes. Everything was blurry except...eyes. Brown eyes. Like Angel's. "Angel?"

"He must have hit his head even harder than we realised Virgil, if he's calling you an angel now."

Scott blearily turned his head to the side to see a grinning face, then back to the brown eyes. Except - the brown eyes weren't right. They weren't light and golden, they were dark and warm, kind of like... "Virgil?"

"And he's back with the living." The face of his middle brother seem to crystallise above him. "Next time don't try to catch masonry with your head, yeah?"

"What...what happened?" Scott tried to sit up, only for Virgil to restrain him.

"Easy there, you did take quite a knock. Let me do the checks before you start moving around."

Scott tried to focus on what had happened. He was inside Thunderbird 2's cockpit; that much was clear. He was lying on something hard... the floor? Virgil loomed above him again, covered in dirt and dust. Why would Virgil be covered in dirt and dust? Wait a moment - the factory, the family, the collapse.

"The factory!" Again he tried to sit up, again Virgil had to restrain him.

"This is why I hate having you as a patient," Virgil complained conversationally. "Yes, the factory. All coming back to you now?"

"Virgil," Gordon called from somewhere to the side. "Now he's awake I'm going to head back out and see if they need a hand."

"F.A.B. Gordon, don't be too long. I'll want to get this one home."

"Ok, Virgil," and Gordon disappeared from the sickbay.

"Why do they need a hand?" Scott asked. Virgil looked grim.

"They're recovering bodies out there. Not from the groups we helped," Virgil was quick to reassure Scott. "But from the initial collapse. They're also trying to make sure that all the charges detonated, thought I don't see there is really a possibility that any are left intact in all that mess."

"And Armen and his family?"

"Are very grateful and lucky to be alive. Only minor scrapes and bruises. Your mad dash certainly saved the lives of his wife and child, they're all incredibly thankful. Gordon had a chat to him, you'll be interested to know that before he had to flee he was a university lecturer."

"I remember him saying when we first met."

"Yes, but get this - he specialised in mystical lore from the Far East."

"I'm not sure I'm following, Virgil.

Virgil waved his hands impatiently. "That will be the concussion. Right, we know that this 'Hood' character has some form of ability to hypnotise with his eyes, right? That's what both Brains and Tintin reported from the trip to Lake Anasta. Well, what if Armen knows anything about that kind of ability? He may be able to help us come up with a way to ignore its effects."

"Virgil, that's brilliant! But we still don't have a clue where the Hood and Ethan may be, or even if they are working together."

"Well no, but it gives us a bit more information for when we do. Armen and his family are going to be housed by the government not far from here - the government has already managed to secure a damages pay-out from the joke of a demolition company that were supposed to be managing this project. We'll be able to come and talk to them later if we need to."

"That's great work, Virgil." Scott pushed himself up into a sitting position and immediately wished he hadn't as a wave of nausea washed over him.

"I told you to stay lying down!" Virgil fussed over him, checking the back of his head. Now that Scott was more with it, he could feel how much his head ached. "I'm not going to do much with this now, we'll take you back and I'll see to it in the sickbay on the Island."

"What about Thunderbird 1?"

"John will fly her home." Seeing Scott about to protest, Virgil held up a hand to silence him. "You've had a serious concussion Scott, you're in no state to fly. You're lucky I'm not strapping you into the sickbay on board for the journey."

At that point Virgil's intercom crackled into life. "Thunderbird 1 calling Thunderbird 2."

"Come in John," Virgil replied, helping Scott buckle into one of the passenger seats.

"We've done all we can here Virgil, Gordon's on his way back to you now. I'm about to head back to base. How's Scott doing?"

"F.A.B. John, Scott's ok, just complaining now that he doesn't get to fly back himself. How was it out there?"

There was a short pause before John replied. "Pretty rough, actually. I know that we can't save everyone but still... Anyway, better get this hunk of junk back to base."

"Hey!"

"Ok John, have a safe flight, see you soon." Once Virgil had closed down comms Scott could hear the familiar thrum of his beloved bird as Thunderbird 1 launched into the air.

"He'd better look after it," the eldest brother grumbled.

"You know he will, he's far too scared about what you might do to him if he scratches it. Now, Gordon's on his way back and before he gets here I have an important question for you."

Scott looked wary. "Out with it, then."

"Who on Earth is Angel?"

Of all the things Scott was expected in Virgil to ask, that was not it. He was saved from answering by the timely return of his prankster brother, although the expression on Virgil's face told him he wouldn't be letting it go anytime soon.

Gordon trudged into the cockpit looking exhausted, wiping a hand across his face. "You ok, Gords?" Virgil asked, slipping into the driver's seat.

"Yeah, though it's not pretty out there. The local teams are going to have one hell of a job sifting through it all to check all the charges have gone." There were times that Scott was reminded that Gordon was the only other member of International Rescue that had been through anything remotely like military training, even if WASP barely counted. This was one of those times. The clinical way he spoke was in sharp contrast to John's more emotional tones only a minute earlier. Of course, due to John's time up in the space station he went on far fewer rescues than Gordon too and he wouldn't often have had to support on the more macabre side of the job.

"How many?" Scott asked, taking a small sip of the water Virgil had provided him with as the aircraft engines roared into life.

"I think nine in total, which actually isn't that bad given how many were in the building. It's a small miracle that it wasn't higher - that and your Superman impression at the end."

"Haha, laugh it up," grumbled Scott. "How long are we going to take, Virgil?"

"Just under ninety minutes now Scott. Won't be long. How's the head?"

"Pretty sore," Scott admitted. "I'll be pleased when you tell me I'm good to sleep for a bit. I'm exhausted now."

"It's been one hell of a day," Gordon agreed. "And a major success for International Rescue - getting all the civilians out that we were called to save."

"That it was," Virgil agreed. "Now rest up while I fly us home. Gords, would you be ok to do debrief with dad? I want to see to this one and clean up." He nodded his head towards Scott, who had reclined the seat and was making the most of the rest.

Gordon agreed without an argument and the three settled for a quiet flight home, all exhausted from the mental and physical strain of a difficult rescue.

When they arrived back at Tracy Island, Gordon disappeared immediately to give the briefing. John had arrived much earlier and soon Gordon was released to freshen up himself. Virgil took Scott straight to the sickbay. The concussion he had suffered was now causing dizziness and nausea. However, Virgil didn't seem to think the head injury was too serious other than the concussion and after Scott promised not to do anything strenuous he was allowed to leave the sickbay.

The first thing both brothers did was to freshen up, they were covered in dirt from the mission. To bandage Scott's injury Virgil had at least washed his hair, so he was now standing in his shower with a shower cap over the bandage trying to get the rest of him clean. There wasn't much of an outward wound, just a small cut hidden in his hair at the back of his head, but Virgil wasn't taking any chances with potential infection.

As Scott washed away the dirt he found countless other scrapes and grazes, likely caused by his accidental flight. He winced as soap entered the cuts but was thorough in cleaning them, no point in getting a pointless infection. If he moved too much the nausea and dizziness came back in force so he took his time. This meant that by the time he was finished Gordon had managed to get clean and return to the lounge with John.

On entering the lounge, Scott was greeted immediately by his Grandma who fussed over him. He looked a state, a graze to his cheek and the white bandage on his head.

"Oh you poor dear. I've made your favourite apple pie, just to make you feel better."

"Hey Grandma, don't the rest of us get any special treatment?" Virgil entered not long behind Scott, having retrieved a cup of coffee from the kitchen on the way. "Besides, with his concussion Scotty isn't allowed any apple pie until at least tomorrow. Nice, bland foods that he'll keep down is the doctor's orders for today. Might mean somebody else gets some for once."

"Ah good, you're all here." Jeff stood up from his desk, moving towards the drinks cabinet and pouring himself a scotch.

"You all did well today, boys." Their father stated, looking proudly at his sons who all looked utterly exhausted, including Alan on the space station. "That was a difficult situation out there today and you all acted with the utmost professionalism. I'm very proud of you. You too Alan, you didn't lose your nerve at any point and were calm and collected as you supported Gordon and the local crews."

Scott realised that Alan was on the screen, he hadn't notice when he came in. Suddenly overcome with tiredness he sank into one of the chairs.

"How is your head?" Jeff asked with concern.

"It'll take more than a bit of rubble to get through this one's thick skull," Virgil replied fondly on Scott's behalf. "Nothing a bit of sleep won't fix, but he won't be able to fly for a month or so. There is no serious damage other than some concussion but his head will need time to heal before he starts subjecting it to the low pressure and gravitational force inside that rocket of his."

"A month?" Scott's eyes flew open from where he had been momentarily resting them. "You didn't say that earlier!"

"I wanted backup for the inevitable argument." Virgil sounded completely unapologetic as he looked to his father.

"If Virgil says a month, then a month it is Scott." The head of International Rescue stated firmly. "You can support them from here, give me a bit of a break. John and Alan can take it in turns to pilot Thunderbird 1 until you're fit to fly again."

"But father, Gordon's going to that marine symposium at the beginning of June and we're going to be really understaffed if I can't fly!"

"I can always cancel my attendance, I was only presenting one series of lectures anyway." Gordon had been looking forward to catching up with his old WASP colleagues, but International Rescue always came first.

"Thank you for your offer Gordon, but we'll get along. Hm...I wonder..." The older man stared off into space as his brain worked. His sons all shared a look, they knew they would need to prompt for information.

"Wonder what, father?" Virgil was the one to speak up.

"Oh, I was just wondering if Penelope would like to come out earlier, she was planning to visit a few days before you all head over for Tintin's birthday, but I'm sure she'd jump at the chance to come a bit earlier if we needed her to provide some back-up to rescues."

"She does love to get involved with rescues," Virgil smiled warmly. "That's a great idea father."

"That also means Gordon could take some leave straight after his symposium and then travel straight to Boston. How does that sound Gordon?"

"Oh that would be swell! There's an exhibition on over in New York that a couple of friends are attending, I could tag along as well." The redhead was almost bouncing in excitement.

"Well, I'll call Penny and see what she says. In the meantime, you," here Jeff shot a stern glare at his eldest. "You are going to do what Virgil has told you to do and rest up. No gym, no pool, just reading and relaxing until he or I say otherwise. Clear?"

"Crystal," Scott muttered grumpily.

"You should be ok to hit the gym in a week or so, Scott, and to take normal flights, drive a car etc. It's just the forces in that craft of yours are so much more intense." Virgil added to try to cheer him up. This didn't offer Scott much comfort, one of his favourite things to do was to fly his jet. Still, it might not all be bad.

"Hm, maybe I could take some leave, if I can't do much here."

"Think about it, son. It'll do you good to have a break for a while. You've been more dedicated than anybody over the last couple of years."

It was true, after the debacle in California where Scott had lost Angel he'd been plunged into depression for a while. He hadn't been able to engage with anyone or anything around him, and he certainly hadn't been able to take part in rescue missions. When he had finally recovered enough to be a functioning member of the team again, he had felt guilty over his lack of presence and had thrown himself into it fully. Then it had become almost a habit, a way to forget the crushing absence in his life. Compared to his brothers he had taken very little leave over the last couple of years - in fact, only when expressly ordered to do so and even then he usually spent it coming up with upgrades that he would discuss with Brains the minute he came back to the Island.

Maybe he could use a break. As Scott thought more about it, a plan began to form in his mind. Somewhere he could go to rest, somewhere he could go to escape and somewhere he could maybe, just maybe, find a little peace for a short while.


	7. Time to Relax

Lady Penelope was, as predicted by many on Tracy Island, absolutely thrilled with the idea of standing in for Scott and Gordon for a couple of weeks. She had agreed to arrive the day Scott was planning to head out on holiday so that he could jump into her chartered plane as he still wasn't allowed to fly himself on Virgil's orders.

Scott had told his family he was planning to go camping in England for his downtime, so Penelope had arranged for him to borrow one of her cars after being flown back to her home by her pilot. This made life considerably easier for Scott and he made a special point of thanking the aristocrat during one of her calls. It was arranged that Scott would then travel from England to New York to meet up with Gordon before they both travelled to Boston for Tintin's birthday party. It was a long time since Scott had been absent from the Island for so long, he was sure he would miss it – particularly the warmth and sunshine, if he was attempting to camp in England in June.

The fact he had planned camping didn't go unnoticed by his family, all of whom had never known Scott to go camping before. At least, not since they were teenagers and Jeff used to insist on an annual camping trip that they all used to complain endlessly about but secretly enjoy.

But Scott was adamant – going off grid would be the best way to get some rest and relaxation. And why not England? He spoke the language, Penelope was always talking about how lovely her homeland was and there were far fewer things that could eat him there than in parts of America or Australia.

In the two weeks that had passed since the factory disaster they luckily hadn't had many rescues to go on. John had flown his bird on one to rescue a crane operative that had become stuck when a freak storm damaged the machinery, but with Virgil's help they managed to get her clear before the structure collapsed in on itself. Then John had switched with Alan on the space station again and there had been a further two rescues, one to rescue some holiday makers trapped in a broken cable car in Chile and a second to stop a broken satellite from crashing into Thunderbird 5. Virgil had taken Scott's place as co-pilot on Thunderbird 3 for the latter rescue.

Scott had hated it. Sitting and waiting at home whilst his brothers were out on missions was horrible, not knowing if they would return home safe and being able to do very little to help. His father, ever pragmatic, had pointed out that by providing guidance and distant support Scott was helping them but it didn't feel the same. In many ways Scott was very pleased he wouldn't be on the Island for the rest of his grounding.

So now he stood, small backpack in hand and larger holdall of supplies at his feet, waiting for the plane that would bring Lady Penelope and be his taxi out of there.

Unusually, his brothers were waiting with him. Scott thought this was much less to do with seeing him off, and much more to do with waiting to greet Lady Penelope when she arrived. Even his father had come down to the edge of the runway.

"I still can't believe you're willingly going camping." Gordon commented, eyeing up Scott's hold-all. "You used to complain the most when dad used to take us."

"What can I say, maybe I've grown up a bit."

Alan coughed behind him, a cough that sounded suspiciously like the word 'old'. Scott glared at his youngest brother who put on an innocent face. "What? It's nice that you're trying camping. Maybe then you'll buy an RV and drive across America, stopping at all those little campsites with the rest of the pensioners. Or go on a cruise!" Gordon snorted loudly.

Scott rubbed his brow with one hand, noticing that even his father was struggling to keep a straight face. "Why do I even bother?" He asked rhetorically.

"Aww, you know you love us really," Virgil stated calmly. "Life wouldn't be anywhere near as interesting without us to keep you sharp, old man."

"And you wonder why I want to get away for a while."

"We never wondered why you wanted to get away!" Gordon protested. "We just wonder why you've chosen camping, in England of all places. Why not a secluded beach somewhere? Or a tropical spa?"

"It must be the lure of Jane," Alan said knowingly.

Scott spluttered. "I...what? Jane?"

"We heard you on the phone to her," Gordon explained. "Suddenly explains why you are so keen on going to England."

Virgil simply raised an eyebrow and mouthed 'what about Angel?' when his brothers weren't looking.

"If your brother wants to go visit a girl in England it's none of your business boys, even if we might wonder why he's never mentioned her before." Jeff stepped in to try to de-escalate the situation.

Scott turned his eyes up to the skies in despair. "Oh for heaven's sake! Jane Lidgey is a contact I have there, I've been calling her to arrange somewhere to stay. You can't just go and camp anywhere in England!"

His youngest brothers looked really disgruntled with that news. "That's really... boring." Gordon stated while Alan nodded emphatically in agreement. "You sure she isn't a gorgeous young lady about to sweep you off your feet whilst swooning at your sexy American accent?"

"Definitely not! She's older than dad! I'm not going to make up drama just so you can get your laughs in."

"Spoilsport." Gordon pouted, before his expression brightened. "Look, there's a plane coming!"

In the distance they could just make out the small plane heading straight for the Island. It didn't take long for it to arrive and land smoothly on the runway. Once the steps were lowered, Parker emerged first, turning around to offer a hand to Lady Penelope who stepped out gracefully behind him.

"Jeff, how lovely to see you again!" The head of International Rescue found himself engulfed in a sea of fragrance as Lady Penelope brought him in for a hug.

"Hello Penny, you're looking well."

"Why I'm simply thrilled to be here, Jeff, really I am. Hello Scott, how are you doing after your accident?" It was now Scott's turn to be hugged, this time receiving a quick peck on his cheek as well. "It's such a shame that we'll miss you while we're here, but we'll see you in Boston I hope?"

"I'm ok thanks Penelope, and I will definitely be in Boston - I wouldn't miss a night out with my favourite people."

"Oh that's excellent. Hello Virgil dear, you look very tanned this year!"

Once Penelope had moved on to greet his other brothers, Scott headed toward the plane to load his luggage. Once he'd had a quick word with the pilot, who assured him that he didn't need a break before heading off again, Scott returned to his brothers. Except, most had disappeared - only Virgil and his father stood on the runway now.

"They've gone to show Penelope to her room," Virgil explained, rolling his eyes.

Scott sighed. "So much for brotherly love then."

"Have a good time son, get some proper downtime and don't worry about things here. Call us if you want to, but certainly don't feel like you have to. I'd rather you came back refreshed after having some proper time away from this Island and all of us. We'll call you on your comms if there is an emergency." Jeff reached out and gave his eldest a hug, an uncharacteristic gesture.

"Thanks dad," Scott's voice was muffled into his father's shoulder, and if it sounded a touch emotional no one would comment. Jeff released him and squeezed his shoulder once before heading back up to the Villa.

Scott turned to Virgil. "Look after yourself, big brother. I'll need you to come back refreshed to help me keep the twosome in check."

"Sure thing, Virgil. Have a good couple of weeks and I'll see you in Boston." With that, Scott walked back to the plane and settled in next to the pilot. It was comfortable enough in there, bigger than a small biplane but not quite as large as some of the jets Lady Penelope had been known to charter. He strapped in to his seat and waved out the window at Virgil, who had stayed on the runway to see him off.

With a roar the plane took to the air and soon left the Island behind. After a quick chat with the pilot, Scott reclined his seat and shut his eyes to while away the journey.

He was shaken awake by the pilot some time later, to be told they were nearly at the destination. The plane was no ordinary one but had instead been modified by Brains so that it flew significant faster - travelling halfway around the world was a matter of a few hours instead of days.

The day was grey and damp as the plane bumped down on the landing strip at Lady Penelope's mansion in Kent. Scott had been given the option of stopping over for a night, but had declined as he felt it was a little strange to be there without the lady of the manor. Instead he hopped into a small car - well, small by Lady Penelope standards anyway, but she did own the pink monstrosity that was FAB1 - and headed out to his stop for the night a couple of hours down the road.

The inn that Scott had selected was homely and quaint, nestled next to a stream with a little thatched roof. From his room he could see the old waterwheel, now useless but still an impressive feature. The food wasn't bad either, not quite as good as Grandma's home cooked offerings but still very tasty and filling.

The next day, after a hearty English breakfast, he was back on the road again. He stopped off at a small store for some supplies; although Brains had sent him away with some camping rations he still wanted some fresh food and he knew where he was going it wouldn't be easy to pick up things. He took his time on the drive, enjoying taking the back lanes through pleasant countryside. Eventually the farms gave way to moorland, the gradients steeper and less forgiving, the road more twisted and harder to drive. Finally, after driving for most of the day, Scott pulled up in a small village. He stepped out of the car and walked up to one of the houses, knocking on the door.

An older lady answered it, smiling when she saw him. "Scott, I was expecting you earlier. Bad traffic?"

"Hey there Jane, how are you? No, I just came the scenic route. I don't get to spend much time in the UK."

Jane sniffed. "You don't spend much time here at all. Let's get a look at you." She took hold of his shoulders and scrutinised him closely. "You look a lot better than when I last saw you. I'm glad."

"Thank you," Scott replied fondly, Jane reminded him a lot of a younger version of his Grandma. "I feel better too."

"Well, you won't want to stand here talking to me all day. Here." Jane thrust a small bundle into his hands. "Bed linen - I have no idea what state it's all in. I go up there to check it over occasionally but I can't do as much as I used to be able to." She dropped a key on top of the pile. "Call me if you need anything, I've had the old phone line reconnected and my number is on the key ring there. Come down tomorrow to let me know you've made it through the night."

"Gee thanks Jane, I sure do appreciate all this."

Jane just waved him off with a small smile, so Scott returned to his car with the bundle. He then drove up another small lane that got less and less defined, eventually finishing at a gate into a field. Pulling his bags out the car and tucking the bundle from Jane under one arm, he set off over a stile and across a field, balancing precariously on a footbridge over a small brook. With a deep breath, he stopped and looked up at the small cottage nestled into the valley.

So perhaps he hadn't been entirely truthful with his family.

Scott's intention had never been to go camping, but the real explanation of where he was planning to go would have raised more questions than he wanted to answer. It was basically camping anyway - completely off the grid and, hopefully, communication range.

As he got closer to the small cottage, he could see the signs of neglect caused by its abandonment over the last couple of years. Some of the slate roof tiles seemed to be out of place and the garden was overgrown, large brambles creeping up the side of the house. With some trepidation, Scott turned the key in the door and shoved it open.

The inside also showed signs of neglect. A layer of dust covered everything, although Scott suspected it would have been a lot worse if Jane hadn't been up to clean it out regularly. The cottage was small, a kitchen to the right side of the door with a small table against the front wall. There was a small lounge to the left side of the front door, a small sofa and a couple of chairs arranged around a small log burning stove set into the end wall. Stairs in the middle led up to a mezzanine above the kitchen, where Scott knew he would find a small bedroom tucked into the eaves.

Dropping his hold-all on the floor, Scott considered what to do first. He could see light shining through the roof above the lounge so it was clear that would need attention. But it was late, he wouldn't be fixing anything this evening. He looked up at the mezzanine floor but the stairs looked rickety, one had collapsed completely. With a sigh he instead beat the dust off the sofa, using the bedding provided by Jane to turn it into a bed for the night.

He pulled some of the rations out of his bag, thankful that Brains had insisted he pack them after all. There was no food in the house, Jane had long since cleared away anything perishable. He did notice with gratitude that she must have had the electricity reconnected at some point, the refrigerator was working and he was able to store some of the supplies he'd bought on the way.

That done, Scott simply sat and contemplated where he was. It had been a very long time since he'd last set foot here - he'd avoided returning, thinking that it would be too painful. But actually, despite the pain it was comforting. He let the memories wash over him - the sight of the two pairs of lime green wellington boots neatly placed by the back door, one little and one large. The oversized jumper covered in small knitted kittens hung haphazardly on a hook by the front door. The small bookcase full of well-worn paperbacks to the side of the stove in the lounge.

Yes, it was right to have come here. Here, in Angel's small cottage tucked into the moorland valley, he finally felt he was able to catch his breath and rest a little.


	8. At home alone

The next morning Scott woke cold and aching. The small sofa really wasn't long enough for his tall frame and he'd had to contort himself to fit. Despite being nearly midsummer in the Northern hemisphere there was still a chill to the air and the thin bedding he'd been provided with hadn't done a lot. With a groan Scott sat up, stretching his back to try to relieve some of the tension.

He first went to find coffee only to remember with a sigh that Angel didn't have an electric kettle, she only had an old whistling one that had to be put on the range cooker in the kitchen. The same range that hadn't been lit for over two years now.

Pulling on the larger pair of green wellies Scott ventured out the back door. Angel's pretty garden was completely overgrown out the back as it had been in the front, although it looked like someone had been mowing the grass sporadically. He found a small log store around the side of the house and picked up some of the smaller sticks. Before lighting the range he made sure the outlet was clear, but soon had the fire in it crackling merrily - with the help of another one of Brains' gadgets he'd thrown in for his 'camping' trip. With another trip to get bigger logs more suitable for keeping it burning for a longer time, he put the kettle on top and waited for it to get warm.

He then turned his attention to the stairs. The night before he'd been concerned about using them without having a chance to check them over first. The fact that one had fallen onto the floor below didn't ease his mind, but then checking the rest he realised it was just because of a split board and not a more serious problem such as rot. That decided, Scott climbed the stairs to the bedroom.

The bed was still made as she had left it, a blanket pulled over the top to protect the bedding from dust while she was away. Scott reluctantly decided to wash all the bedding, replacing it with the things Jane had sent him up to the cottage with. But before he did so he couldn't resist pulling the duvet up to his face and breathing it in deeply - even after all this time it still smelt of her. A pang of longing shot through him and he had to blink back the tears that threatened to fall.

Bed made, he checked the roof of the mezzanine but it was sound with no obvious signs of leaks or rot. The small skylight needed cleaning but it wasn't urgent. Heading back downstairs he found a vacuum cleaner tucked into a cupboard, so he took that back up and thoroughly cleaned everything. He did open the small wardrobe and saw all of Angel's clothes hanging there. On an impulse, he took out a light grey dress and put it in his bag but left the rest - he knew he should probably get rid of them or donate them but he couldn't bring himself to. Instead, Scott just moved them to one side to give him some space for his clothes.

He was just finishing when there was a knock at the door. Thinking it was likely to be Jane, Scott hurried down to answer it. He was proved right, the older lady barely saying hello before bustling in with her arms full. She tutted as she looked around the interior of the cottage.

"Good morning dear. Oh it is a bit of a mess, isn't it? I haven't been able to get up here too much, what with my illness and all. Not that I'd have been able to do much about this place anyway, I'm just not as spry as I once was. Here," she thrust a wicker basket into Scott's hands. "There is some fresh bread and some local cheese in there, plus one of my rhubarb chutneys from last year and some fresh eggs. Should keep you going for an hour or two anyway."

"Thank you," Scott replied gratefully, putting the basket onto a kitchen worktop. As he did so, the kettle started to whistle at last. "Would you like something to drink?"

He found a pair of mugs in a cupboard and quickly rinsed them off. There were some dusty teabags too, but Jane soon rejected them in favour of the instant coffee Scott had brought with him.

"I see you came prepared," she said as they sat on the sofa and sipped their drinks. "Thinking to bring coffee with you."

"I knew better than to assume that Angel would have any," Scott replied with a smile, remembering fondly the face she would pull every time he had coffee instead of tea.

Jane barked a laugh. "That's true enough. So now that you're here, what do you plan to do?"

Scott cradled his mug, looking around the cottage. "I think I'll fix it up a bit. Angel wouldn't have wanted it to fall into disrepair."

"No, that she wouldn't. But why bother? She isn't coming back, son. This place will need to be looked after or it will decay - the conditions are harsh here."

"I know," Scott sighed. "I've not been able to come back until now, but I think... now I will, more often. Unless...well I don't know who owns this place, now that's she's gone."

Jane snorted. "Not that anyone knows that. For all the village knows, she's just away. I haven't cared to tell them otherwise. All the tenancy agreements she put in place will go on for twenty years or so. Was she ever declared dead?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"Then there's no reason for it to be an issue. Not that it would be anyway, she left it all to you."

Scott nearly sprayed his coffee across the room in his surprise. "She what?"

"She wrote a will up, that I witnessed. Left all her belongings to a certain Mr Scott Tracy, which would be you I think."

Scott sank back into the sofa. "She left this place to me? Why would she do that?"

Jane looked at him scathingly. "I can't believe you actually have to ask that. You were the only person she ever brought back here. Now you could talk to the police, try to sort it all out legally if you wanted to."

"I...no, I don't want that. I'll look after it, but it is Angel's place not mine. I won't let it fall into ruin though, I'll come back here more from now on. Maybe even find somewhere closer to fly into than my friend's place in Kent."

"You could even build a runway somewhere." Jane added nonchalantly.

"Where? It's hardly huge." Scott asked confused, thinking about the small cottage and the garden.

"Well, this cottage isn't." Jane explained. "But Angel owned pretty much this whole valley and most of the moorland around here. In the wood down the bottom there, in the valley basin before you get to the village, there are some old logging tracks you could think about turning into a runway. No idea what state they're in, when Angel bought up the place she stopped all logging in the woodland she owned."

Scott's mind reeled with this information. "So when you said tenancy agreements earlier?"

"All the farmers that lease access to the paddocks and moorland for their livestock. She cuts them a very good deal I think, in return for them looking after the nature on the land."

"Wow. That's... a lot to take in. But I guess most of it looks after itself."

"That's true enough. It's only this place that's being neglected. It will do it good to have you look after it, I'm not as young as I once was and I can't be clambering around roofs anymore." Jane looked up at them daylight shining through into the lounge as she said this, filtering in through the broken slates.

"Mmm," Scott agreed, looking up at the damage. "I'm going to need a ladder."

Jane showed Scott the small shed to the rear of the garden where any equipment Angel had was kept, including an old folding ladder. She then left him to it, but not before inviting him down for dinner the next day.

With some trepidation Scott unfurled the old ladder against the house and made sure it was properly balanced. It had grapples to stop it falling, despite being old fashioned it was completely sound. When he got up to the roof he could see that one of the batons had rotted, causing the tiles pinned to it to slip. He made a note of what he would need to fix it before coming back down.

He spent most of the day moving around the property, cataloguing what urgently needed repair. The cottage looked tired but actually most of it was superficial, it had avoided any serious decay. A bit of work now would avoid any serious problems later. Having cleaned the mezzanine he moved his small rucksack up there, emptying out clothes into the space in the cupboards. The hold-all contained camping gear but also tools and he put these to use on the missing stair.

The following day Scott ventured out in the little car and managed to get some more wood and some slates. The rest of the day was spent up on the roof, swearing a lot while patching the broken tiles. By the time he was due to visit Jane for dinner, he was dirty and tired but the cottage was now watertight again.

He quickly freshened up before going out, aware that while Jane wasn't expecting him to dress for dinner he should at least be clean. Dinner was pleasant, she'd made a simple stew which again reminded him of his Grandma's cooking except that he couldn't remember Grandma ever cooking with rabbit.

They talked for a while about his plans for the cottage and Jane pulled out a map to show him the land Angel had owned. She showed him the woods she had mentioned the day before, where there were clearly marked tracks throughout that might be able to be converted into a runway. However, Scott's eye was drawn to the woods behind the cottage, stretching up through the valley. Fairly close to the cottage there seemed to be a clearing with a building of some sort.

"Oh, that's just an old shooting lodge. The gradient is too steep up there to land a plane."

Maybe any normal plane, but he was pretty certain that Thunderbird 1 would be able to land easily. It was still quite a distance from the head of the valley so the approach would also be fairly well concealed, particularly if he put some of the same electronic signal blockers that they used at Penelope's along the edges of the surrounding hills.

As he talked with Jane he had another thought - his father was always looking out for more agents on the ground to support International Rescue. Jane was well educated and knew the land and people here incredibly well, maybe she'd fit the bill. As he was about to head back to the cottage that night he broached the subject.

"How would you feel about a new job?"

Jane looked confused by the question. "A new job? I haven't had a job since Derek passed away five years ago. I wouldn't know what to do anymore."

"Still, if someone calls you and tells you that I've recommended you for a job, will you at least consider it?"

The confusion had turned to thoughtfulness. "Well, I wouldn't take just any job and it has to fit in with my life here. But you would know that and if you still want to recommend me for something then it would be worth a thought at least. But why so secretive?"

"You'll see. Goodnight Jane, thank you for the dinner."

Scott headed back to the cottage. On foot from Jane's it was a long walk, but it let him walk off some of the treacle tart that he'd rather rashly had second helpings of. The summer night was quiet, as it was a dead end road there were no cars and he could hear occasional owls in the distance. Eventually the little cottage came into view and after congratulating himself on finding it in the dark he tumbled into the bed and slept deeply.

The next few days passed similarly. He'd checked in with home to find out that they were all doing well, although there hadn't been a rescue yet so Penelope was feeling a bit bored. He'd suggested Jane to his father, who had replied that he would look into it. That was code for 'check out her history and make sure she's legit'. He then spent a lot of time fixing up the cottage. After mending everything obviously broken he'd cleaned thoroughly before tackling the garden, pulling the worst of the weeds up (as well as a lot of other plants... he had very little gardening knowledge). He'd even repointed some of the cottage's exterior walls, where tenacious climbers had caused quite a bit of damage.

Scott found he was really enjoying this simpler existence. Of course, for him money was no issue and so he could afford the materials he needed to bring the cottage out of its neglected state. It also made him feel closer to Angel and the small part of him that was convinced she wasn't, couldn't be dead rejoiced at the thought of making sure her home was lovely in case she ever came back to it. In the evenings he read through some of her books in the lounge, he hadn't lit the stove as the range cooker pumped out more than enough heat for June but it was still incredibly cosy. Every now and then, when he popped into one of the local towns to buy some supplies, he would see something that he took home for the cottage. A pretty vase, or a third mug, or a nice rug for in front of the fire. All things that he thought Angel would like. Then he would remind himself that she wasn't coming back, that she would never see these things he'd bought for her home, and the pain would hit him again.

It was about a week later when there was a sharp knock on the door. Not expecting anybody, Scott opened it and with some surprise found Jane standing there.

"Is anything wrong?"

Jane looked at him appraisingly. "Maybe you can tell me. I've just had a phone call from someone called Jeff Tracy. Any relation of yours?"

"Ah, come in."

Scott moved aside and Jane entered the small cottage. "Drink?" He offered while waving a bottle of red wine, fetching a wine glass when Jane nodded.

They sat in silence for a bit, sipping their wine.

"So...International Rescue."

"Yes ma'am."

Jane shook her head. "Of course you are. I thought it was a hoax at first, but then he said his name and it was too much of a coincidence - especially when he said I had come highly recommended by an operative."

"He's my father," Scott admitted, taking a sip of his wine.

"Keeping it in the family then. I'm really rather cross, you know. I am reaching the age where a nice, quiet retirement in a sleepy part of the country is very appealing."

"You're allowed to say no," Scott pointed out. Jane snorted.

"Do I look senile to you, lad? Only a fool turns down an offer to work for International Rescue. I may be many things, but I don't think I'm a fool."

"No," Scott agreed. "That you aren't."

"I do have one question though." Jane tucked one leg under herself and turned on the sofa so that she was facing Scott directly. "How on Earth did an International Rescue operative end up with a girl like Angel? God knows I loved her like my own daughter, but I'm pretty sure you operated on different sides of the law."

Scott thought back to the figure in a black, figure-hugging jumpsuit sat in the cockpit of Thunderbird 1. Her high heels drumming against his instrument panel as she declared that for a thief of her ability breaking into one of the most secure aircraft around was easy.

"You could say that. But from the moment I first met her, I couldn't get her off my mind. It took me a while to realise I'd fallen in love with her pretty much the first time I saw her."

"Hmm, bet that caused issues." At his curious glance, she gestured with her wine glass. "Your father is the head of International Rescue, or as good as. I doubt he particularly approved." Scott's silence caused the penny to drop. "You've never told him have you?"

"One of my brothers knows," he admitted. "But not everything, I've never told anyone everything. It just...wasn't my story to tell, you know."

"So where do they think you are now?"

"Camping," Scott winced. It was one thing telling small lies to his family, another to admit to it to Jane.

"And they bought that? I remember what you were like the first time you turned up in the village looking for Angel – I thought you wouldn't make it as far as the cottage! And they thought you went camping?!"

Scott laughed at the memory. "I don't think I would have made it up here if you hadn't called her, she found me in the fog. I lost a shoe in the mud by the brook and was completely disorientated! I like to think I've come on a bit since then."

Jane looked around at the neat cottage, much tidier than it had been of late. "That you have lad. Well, I'd better go home and tell your father I accept his offer. Out of curiosity, what did you tell them about me?"

"That you were a contact I made a couple of years ago and that you were helping me get stuff set up out here."

"Roger that. Do you say roger?"

"No," Scott grinning. "We use F.A.B."

"F.A.B. What in blazes does that stand for?"

Scott was about to answer, when he realised he didn't know. "I actually have no idea. But it can't be mistaken easily, I guess."

"F.A.B. it is then Scott. Come visit tomorrow for a cuppa. You can have your coffee in the morning but the afternoon calls for a nice cup of tea."

With that Jane left. Looking from his window into the darkening night, Scott could see her little car next to the huge four by four Penelope had lent him. He waved when she reached the bottom of the fields but couldn't tell if she saw. Jane would certainly be an asset to their network, though he wasn't quite sure International Rescue was ready for her.


	9. Boredom

Over on Tracy Island, Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward was bored. She'd been on the Island for five days now and there hadn't been a single rescue in all that time! This always happened when she was eager to go on rescues with the boys.

Not that there were many boys left on the Island now. With a cheerful wave Gordon had departed yesterday for the coast of Ecuador and this symposium he was speaking at. Penelope was surprised by how much she missed him already. She'd never been particularly close to the lively redhead, but his infectious sense of humour brightened up the Island. Without him, only Alan and Virgil were left. Alan could be quite young at times while Virgil seemed to be constantly teasing her of late. It really was getting quite tiresome.

She missed the steadying influence of the oldest brothers. True, John wasn't often on the ground but Scott was usually there to remind the rest when they went too far or to gently poke fun back at them. His absence had been felt across the Island, Jeff was more taciturn than usual as well without his oldest trying to bring him out into the conversation.

Not that Penelope had been having a bad time. She had been able to spend some time with Tintin, the girls had caught up on Penelope's gossip following her month attending functions across America. They had spent time by the pool, on the beach and even on the observatory deck, trying to escape the boys and their interruptions. But a lot of the time Tintin was still working hard on her studies in the laboratory with Brains. If it had been anybody else Penelope may have doubted much 'work' was going on, but when she'd popped down to interrupt them once it was to find them both bent over a robotic processor, talking in a technical language Penelope didn't understand.

So she was now sat alone by the pool, magazine propped open on her lap and glass of juice held in one hand. It was idyllic, the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks in the distance and just enough breeze to stop her from overheating, but she was bored.

Virgil came out to the pool area clad in swim shorts, towel wrapped jauntily around his shoulders and flip flops on his feet. She internally sighed at the machismo. Yes, he was the most muscular Tracy brother, but did he have to go and show it off all the time? It was unseemly. Of course, she gave no indication of what she was thinking - she was a lady, after all.

"Hey Penelope," he called, putting his towel down at the edge of the pool and stretching slightly. "Having fun?"

Penelope was definitely not watching the muscles in his back move as he stretched, not that anyone could tell behind her glasses. "Not particularly Virgil, is it always this quiet?"

"Island life not exciting compared to your usual social engagements?" With a fluid motion Virgil dived into the pool, somehow managing to kick up a lot of splash at Penelope in a way she was convinced was deliberate. Annoyed, she wiped some water off her magazine. Virgil had resurfaced and was now propped on his elbows on the edge of the pool grinning at her infuriatingly.

"That isn't what I meant Virgil and you know it. I was asked to come specifically to support International Rescue in the field and so far the biggest emergency has been when Alan's favourite shirt got laundered with one of Brains' rags." A rag made out of a bright red top in particular, meaning that Alan's favourite blue and white stripe shirt was now fetching shades of pink and purple.

"That's the way it goes sometimes. Lighten up Penelope, enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasts." With that he pushed off from the wall, smoothly gliding through the water before beginning to swim in earnest.

Penelope slammed down her magazine and stalked into the house. She was inwardly seething. Lighten up indeed! The man had no manners and anyone with eyes could tell the lack of action was annoying him as well. To be condescended to in such a way was nearly insufferable.

She went into the lounge, pleased to see that it was empty. She looked up at the portraits of all the boys in their uniforms that were arranged along one wall. Scott had phoned a day or so ago, but otherwise he hadn't called. She had expected him to be in contact with the Island much more than he had been - she had hoped for the chance to have a proper conversation with him, even if he wasn't here in person. But it didn't look like that would be happening anytime soon. She let out a deep sigh.

"Hey there Penny, you ok?"

She spun around to see Jeff Tracy sat at his desk. When she'd come in she hadn't seen him, although looking at the amount of paper correspondence it's possible he'd just been lost behind it.

"Oh hello Jeff. No, I was just wondering when we will be needed for a rescue, that's all. I know it must seem terribly silly to you, that I'm so keen to get into the action, but I've not had many chances to get involved with real rescues."

"It's not silly at all Penny, it is very quiet around here. Of course we do get quiet periods, but it doesn't do the boys much good to be sat around too long. They get into all sorts of mischief." He put some paperwork down and looked up at her. "Say, they haven't been causing you any trouble, have they?"

Penelope thought of Virgil's arrogant smirk as he pushed off into the water. "No, not at all," she told their father, crossing her fingers behind her back. After all, complaining about Virgil's attitude was a trifle infantile.

Jeff looked as though he didn't quite believe her, but gave her the benefit of the doubt. "Very well. I gather Kyrano and Parker seem to get along better now."

"Oh yes," this was safer ground. "I think that the rivalry has turned a little more into friendly competition, something your boys are indulging them in."

It was true - Kyrano and Parker would never see eye to eye, but now that they had turned their attention to who could fulfil the ever more outrageous requests coming from Alan and Virgil at least there were no more drinks spilt. Kyrano also took a greater share of the cooking while Parker was around, as though to remind the family that he possessed talents that Parker did not.

"I was going to ask..." but whatever Jeff had been about to ask was made irrelevant by the beep of an emergency signal.

"Come in, Thunderbird 5."

"Father, there's a problem with a tanker passing through the Strait of Malacca. Its atomic engine is running away and they've lost steering after running too shallow. Most of the crew are evacuating but the tanker is heading straight for the coast near Kuala Lumpur; if it crashes and the engine explodes then nuclear particles could be scattered everywhere."

"Ok John, I'll get Alan on his way. Give him details in the air. Penny, looks like you get your wish after all. Are you happy to go with Virgil? It looks like it could be dangerous out there."

"Of course, Jeff. It's what I'm here for after all."

"Good girl. Tintin and Grandma have fixed you up a uniform, you'll find it in the passenger compartment of Thunderbird 2."

Trying not to bristle at being called a 'good girl' when having nearly reached the age of thirty - what was it with Tracy men and condescension? - Penelope waited while Virgil and Alan came rushing into the room. Jeff quickly briefed them on the situation before sending them on their way, showing Penelope into the passenger lift. By the time the passenger lift made it into Thunderbird 2's cockpit, Virgil was already dressed in his International Rescue uniform.

"You've got a uniform waiting in the sickbay." He informed her. "Wait until we're in the air though, we're going to launch soon."

"Of course," Penelope replied, strapping herself into the passenger seat. She'd flown in Thunderbird 2 a few times now, but never quite got used to the feel of so much raw engine power around her. Thunderbird 1 may be faster but Thunderbird 2 was easily the most powerful, thrust that was needed to lift and travel with a huge payload when the pods were full.

Talking of pods, the craft was lowering over one now. Penelope didn't know which, she assumed that Virgil had talked with Brains and Jeff to decide what equipment was needed. With a rumble the whole side of the cliff disappeared in front of her into the ground and the palm trees flicked back to allow their access.

"Take off in five, four, three, two, one." Virgil counted down, mostly for her benefit she suspected, and there was a roar behind her as the craft surged forwards up its launch ramp.

A few moments later and the craft levelled out, the forces lessening. "Go ahead and unbuckle now," Virgil informed her. "We're going to be travelling for about an hour and a half, I think. Hopefully Alan and John will send more details through before we get there."

Penelope nodded and made her way to the sickbay. Inside, she found the promised blue uniform. It was similar to the boys' but more fitted to a female form, with a flattering utility belt instead of a sash. It showed that Tintin had a hand in the design. There were even matching boots, functional yet stylish. Penelope approved heartily.

Once she had arranged herself just so, she returned to her seat in the cockpit.

"John just called," Virgil said as she settled herself. "The tanker is heading straight for the coast near Kuala Lumpur, as well as its runaway engine it is also carrying a mixed load of farming supplies including potassium nitrate fertiliser. If there is a fire, that won't be pretty. We need to find a way to deactivate the engine before it runs ashore. Luckily, it seems as though the tanker is big enough and strong enough to take us landing on it directly. Alan will double check when he arrives, otherwise I'll have to remain airborne and send you down alone."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Penelope murmured, not liking the thought of being lowered down on a winch by herself. Whilst she had undergone some of Jeff's specialist training in the past she hadn't used it routinely enough to be confident.

"It'll be alright," Virgil said, as though sensing her nervousness. Which he probably did. One of the reasons that Virgil always annoyed her so much was that he had an uncanny ability to know what she was thinking.

"I know," she replied tartly. Virgil pursed his lips and didn't say anything else for a while. After a short time the intercom crackled into life.

"V-Virgil I have some information for you."

"Come in Brains. How are we going to stop this thing?"

"T-the engine a-appears to be controlled by, uh, an electronic circuit that has short circuited after recent storms. I-if you can break the c-circuit and rewire using one of the t-transponders in the pod to send the correct signal, you should be able to turn it down and e-engage reverse thrusters."

"OK Brains, that sounds simple enough."

"U-unfortunately, there's a s-small problem."

Virgil sighed. "Why did I just know you were going to say that?"

"T-the electronic circuit is in the engine bay, on top of an i-inspection walkway. Y-you will need to climb up onto t-the walkway. One of you will n-need to connect w-wires while the other checks the t-transponder to make sure it is, uh, operating."

"Right, ok Brains. Sounds like a job for Alan and I."

"N-no Virgil, A-Alan will need to be in the control room. The reverse thrusters have seized and he w-will need to free them to engage them."

"Right," Virgil checked a couple of dials on his screen and made a quick adjustment to his bearing while he thought. "So Penelope and I are going to have to land on the tanker and work on the transponder. Thanks Brains." Virgil shut down the comms for a moment. "Are you ok with that?" he asked the woman sat behind him.

"It's all in a day's work for International Rescue, isn't it? I'll be fine Virgil, I'm not a delicate flower." Penelope spoke with more bravado than she felt, inwardly she was incredibly nervous but was determined not to let the team down.

"Well ok then. Thunderbird 2 calling Thunderbird 1."

Alan's image was displayed on the small monitor at the front of the cockpit. "Hey Virgil. How are you getting on?"

"We'll be arriving in the Danger Zone in approximately twenty four minutes. Have you made it yet?"

"F.A.B. Virgil. I've just set up mobile command in the control room of the ship. There is space to land next to 1, although we're marginal on weight."

"OK Alan, I'll jettison the pod to lighten the load and collect it later. We won't be needing it anyway for this mission."

"Right Virgil, see you soon."

The remainder of the flight was tense while they contemplated the rescue ahead of them. In almost no time at all they could see the tanker out in front of them. It was vast, far bigger than Penelope had imagined it could be, and it was moving incredibly quickly. In the distance she could see the shoreline and knew time was against them.

Virgil jettisoned the pod and manoeuvred in close, deftly matching the tanker's speed before lowering onto the deck. It wasn't the smoothest landing but they had no time to think about it before they were leaving the cockpit via the stairs.

"What's the situation Alan?"

Alan looked tense through the monitor and he was covered in dirt. "We have approximately twenty minutes before the tanker reaches the coast. If we hit the rocks that will be it, the engines will overheat and likely explode. I've nearly managed to free the mechanism for the thrusters but it hasn't been easy."

"Ok Alan, good work." Virgil cut the link with his youngest brother. "Well then milady, shall we?" he gestured towards a hatch labelled 'engine room'.

Penelope went over to open it but Virgil moved her gently out of the way. "I'll go first," he stated, opening it up and peering down into the compartment. Luckily, the electric lights were still operating. He swung his legs over and started descending. With a deep breath Penelope followed.

They climbed down into the bowels of the ship, eventually ending on a gantry. Virgil followed the route with Penelope following, below her she could see machinery churning and grinding. One false step now and there wouldn't be much left to bury. She inwardly shuddered at the thought, tripping slightly as she did so and knocking into Virgil.

"Careful!" he called back to her. "We don't want to be turned into dog food here."

Sometimes he was unbelievably crass, Penelope thought as she continued to inch her way along the gantry. Why were the handrails so low? It would be so easy to fall over them, they didn't even reach her waist.

They seemed to be walking for an eternity, but suddenly Virgil shouted out. "There it is!"

In front of them, up a ladder, there was a terminal at the end of another gantry. To get to it they had to climb up the side of a large drum-shaped structure. Again Virgil led, his sure footing taking him up quickly. Penelope followed more tentatively, not particularly enjoying the lack of a safety line and the high drop.

The gantry at the top was the same design as the other. Penelope looked down once through the metal grating that comprised the floor and wished she hadn't. The drum wasn't quite hollow, but there was a large empty space beneath them with some form of engine at the bottom.

"That's the atomic engine," Virgil informed her grimly. He had reached the terminal by now and was kneeling in front while reaching behind it to find the wires. "Here," he thrust a metre at her. "That's the transponder readout. When the light goes green, let me know."

He dove into the back of the electrical cabinet, trying to attach the rest of the unit. Penelope watched as the light flickered through a variety of colours before finally turning green.

"That's it, Virgil!"

"Great," a second more and Virgil was climbing back out of the cabinet, talking into his watch. "We've done it Alan, engage the thrusters."

Suddenly the whole engine room shook as the reverse thrusters were engaged. There was a lurch and Penelope fell to the floor, then a second that stopped her regaining her feet. From her prone viewpoint she could see that the metal bars that held the gantry were breaking under the strain.

"Virgil!" She cried, panicked. He turned and saw the struts breaking.

"Quick," he started, but another shudder caused the gantry to swing wildly as the poles broke. He dove on top of Penelope, pinning her to the metal grating that made up the floor as the gantry connected with the side of the compartment and debris rained around them.


	10. Aftermath

When the world stopped spinning, Penelope became aware of quite how close she was to Virgil Tracy. Very aware. His body was positioned over her, although he was obviously taken quite a lot of his body weight as she wasn't feeling crushed. One arm was wrapped protectively around her head and his face was close to hers. She looked into his warm brown eyes, alight with fear. A bead of sweat was running down from his brow and she had the irrational urge to brush it off. Her eyes flicked to his lips, centimetres from her own. Too close, she could barely breathe.

"Are you ok?" He asked softly.

"I, yes, I think so." With that he was moving, standing back up and offering her his hand which she took gratefully.

"I think we've stopped." He commented wryly, bringing his watch to his mouth. "Did you need to stop quite so suddenly Alan? We had a bit of a wild ride down here."

"Yes." Came back the curt response, with no further explanation. With a shrug, Virgil started walking carefully back to the ladder. Penelope followed, looking around. She had been sure that they were going to be thrown into the engine far below but the gantry was supported by a strong steel beam that had stopped it collapsing completely. It had swung wildly like a pendulum but didn't fall, something she was very grateful for.

The ladder felt easy now, following Virgil back down as she had on the way up. It seemed a much faster journey returning. Finally they surfaced back onto the deck of the ship.

She looked out to the front of the ship. It was immediately apparent why Alan had powered the reverse thrusters so hard. No more than a hundred meters in front of them stood a rocky outcrop with a golden beach stretching into the distance beyond. Any further and they would have run straight into a sandbank - or worse.

Virgil let out a low whistle. Penelope assumed it was at their proximity to the coast but turning around she realised that both Thunderbird machines were perilously close to the edge of the tanker, having slipped across the deck when the ship veered so dramatically.

"Good job we did leave the pod, or I think she would have gone for an unexpected swim."

Alan was emerging from the control room on the tanker, stopping short when he saw the Thunderbirds. "That was close," he commented to Virgil, as he and Penelope approached.

"You can say that again," Virgil replied, casting a critical eye over his brother. "Messy job then?"

Alan was covered in oil, his uniform filthy and stained. His usually blond hair was streaked with black and grey. He ran a hand through his locks, grimacing at the colour it came away. "You have no idea. Those controls hadn't been greased for years, it's no wonder they seized. Whatever they were greased with stank too. I'd only just got it free when you gave me the call." He looked Virgil and Penelope over. "Are you two alright?" he asked with concern. "Sorry about how quickly we had to stop, but..." He gestured towards the shoreline.

"Yes, we're ok Alan. You did good." Virgil leant over and ruffled Alan's hair, looking ruefully at his hand afterwards. "Not my best idea..."

"Serves you right." Alan grumped. "Right, I'm going to grab mobile control and head home. The captain stayed on the ship when the rest of the crew evacuated and he's going to deal with this from now on."

"F.A.B. Alan, fly safe. We'll be right behind you."

With a wave the blond headed back into the tanker's main command room. Virgil led Penelope towards Thunderbird 2, gesturing for her to climb the stairs before him.

When they were in the cockpit he looked closely at her face and frowned. "You have blood on you. Get into sickbay and I'll have a look at it."

"Really Virgil, I'm perfectly fine."

"Don't argue Penelope," he warned, taking her by the elbow. "You may rule the roost at home but here I'm in charge, at least when Scott's away." Penelope wanted to argue, very much, but she gritted her teeth and accepted that this time Virgil was right.

The blood came from a small cut to her temple which must have been sustained when she fell onto the gantry. It really was only a scratch, though Virgil prodded it for ages before he was satisfied. She wished he hadn't, it brought him far too close for comfort and reminded her of the strange feeling she'd had on the gantry earlier.

Eventually they launched into the air, Thunderbird 1 having already departed. Virgil first had to manoeuvre to collect the Pod, still floating adrift in the middle of a busy shipping lane. Then they were on their way back to Tracy Island.

Now that the adrenaline was wearing off Penelope could feel herself beginning to shake. Her muscles, which had been held tense for the whole rescue, were feeling the fatigue. She realised she probably wasn't in the condition she should be if she was taking part in rescues and made a mental note to actually visit the gymnasium in Tracy Villa soon. For now though she made herself comfortable on the seat and rested her eyes for a moment.

Virgil took a quick glance at his passenger, who was snoring gently and drooling down her uniform, and chuckled softly to himself. He eased the engine back a bit, no point going faster than they needed to and it looked as though her Ladyship needed a bit of a break.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Penelope felt her shoulder being shaken gently. She jerked upright in her seat. "Yes Virgil?" she asked breathlessly.

Virgil was looming over her, his expression oddly strained as he watched her. "I thought you might like to know that we've landed. The lift has arrived – I'd just go up in uniform and change later, it will all need to be washed anyway."

"Of course, thank you Virgil." Penelope summoned all the dignity she could muster after being caught sleeping on the job and stood elegantly, making her way to the passenger lift. She was just about to travel upwards when Virgil's hand stopped hers from pressing the button.

"You have a little..." he pointed to the bottom of his lip. In a panic Penelope raised her hand to her mouth, finding...nothing.

"What?" she demanded.

Virgil chuckled. "Oh sorry, it was earlier you had the drool." With that he hit the button to send the lift back up to the villa, containing a fuming Penelope who was cross she hadn't even managed to get a good retort in.

Jeff was waiting in the lounge. "How was it?" he asked, taking in her dishevelled state.

"Tiring," she admittedly honestly, seeing as Virgil wasn't around yet to hear her. "I'll be pleased to get clean." Virgil chose that moment to come in behind her, having taken the pilot's route up from the machine. She was at least relieved to see he looked as tired and dirty as she did.

"Very well Penelope, go and get cleaned up. Virgil can debrief." She gratefully slipped away as Jeff turned to his middle son. "How did she get on out there?"

"Honestly? Really well, father. It wasn't easy to get to the location of the engine control, and when Alan engaged the reverse thrusters it got a bit chancy for a moment or two. She did well."

"Excellent, thank you Virgil. Alan debriefed me earlier so you can go and get cleaned up too. I think your Grandma is cooking up something hearty for dinner."

"F.A.B. Father."

Penelope was relieved to be clean. Nice as the uniform was, and she must remember to thank Tintin for it later, nothing quite matched being in her own clothes. Perusing the small selection of clothes she had brought with her, she chose a rather sweet floral summer dress. It was perhaps a little short, but they were amongst friends and a long way from any paparazzi. As it was such a warm evening she decided to forego her usual shawl and wore her hair down loosely. She rarely was able to go out in such an informal outfit and she really rather liked it.

She was still too early for dinner, so she decided to go up to the lounge and see if she could get a drink. She knew from experience that despite frequent rescues the boys were allowed a quick drink at the end of the day, provided John thought all was quiet from his vantage point in space.

She wasn't disappointed this time. Alan and Virgil were both in the lounge, along with Tintin, Brains and Jeff. Parker was also there, unobtrusively manning the small bar that only came out occasionally. Tintin was talking to Alan while Brains was poring over a chart with Jeff. Virgil was painting, a small table set up next to his easel and a frown of concentration on his face.

As she entered, Tintin beamed at her. "Hello Penelope, you look lovely tonight. Congratulations on the rescue earlier, it sounded frightening."

Whatever Penelope might have said in reply was lost amongst the distraction of Virgil choosing that moment to knock a bottle of paint off of his small table. Penelope was irrationally annoyed, a girl did like to make an entrance after all and here he was ruining it. Parker was immediately there with a cloth produced from somewhere to help him mop it up. Tintin had her hand to her face. "Oh my, I hope Virgil is ok. What an unfortunately thing to have happened."

Penelope decided it was rather ungracious of her just to stand there watching, so also approached Virgil. "Is everything quite alright, Virgil dear?"

"Fine thank you Penelope," he answered curtly, trying to remove paint from his favourite brown waist coat. It wasn't a major loss in Penelope's opinion - whilst true that it did accentuate the colour of his eyes, the cut was hardly flattering. However, it appeared he was very fond of it.

"Oh Virgil, will it wash out? Maybe you should take it straight to Grandmama, she will know what to do."

"Oh yes Virgil," Tintin added. "She'll definitely be able to help."

Virgil sighed deeply. "I guess I'll have to. I'll have to put in another order for that paint colour too, I don't have any spare. I'll see you at dinner." The last was said to the room, as he disappeared out of the door. Parker finished mopping up the paint.

"That will have to do for now, h'I can't seem to get any more out."

"Thank you Parker, it was very kind of you to assist Virgil." Penelope told him.

"H'I'm pleased to help, milady. Now, can I h'interest you in a drink?"

"Just a small glass of white wine for me please Parker. Tintin?"

"Oh the same, thank you." The brunette turned to Penelope. "You must tell me all about the rescue. Was it exciting or scary?"

Penelope regaled her younger friend with the details of the rescue while she sipped her wine. She was just finishing when Kyrano entered to tell them dinner was ready.

Down in the dining room Virgil was already waiting, wearing just a green shirt now unbuttoned at the top. Jeff, ever the gentleman, pulled out a chair for Penelope and she found herself sitting opposite the middle brother. She inwardly cringed at the lack of formality in his dress for dinner, surely he had another waistcoat. Still, Jeff Tracy didn't insist on dinner dress so she should not think anything of it.

Grandmama had outdone herself with dinner, having cooked a delicious fish pie with plenty of trimmings. Penelope still wasn't completely used to the diet of the Island, which was an eclectic mix of local and imported produce, so she couldn't quite identify all the fish in the pie but it was simply delicious and she wasted no time in saying so.

"Why thank you, Penelope. It's very kind of you to say so. How are you after your rescue today dear?"

"Oh I'm a little tired Grandmama, nothing that a good night's sleep won't cure." She turned her attention back to her food and tuned out a lot of the conversation around her. Normally she would consider it rude, but decided to forgive herself as she truly was tired after the rescue. Irritatingly, one thing that did catch her notice was Virgil's unbuttoned shirt. More specifically, the chest hair she could see poking out of the top of the unbuttoned section. It really was putting her off her meal.

She must have been more tired than she realised, because a discrete cough had her looking up into Virgil's face. He was watching her with an eyebrow raised and she was mortified to have been caught staring. But then she blushed! Ladies didn't blush, at least certainly not unintentionally. Haughtily she tossed her hair back, realising with relief that almost everyone else had finished dinner.

"If you'll excuse me, I think I'll retire." She declared, standing up gracefully. She left to a chorus of voices calling goodnight to her. Behind her, Virgil also quickly said goodnight and left the dining room. Tintin watched him go curiously but the others all turned their attention to the dessert.

Virgil's longer legs caught up with her before she reached her bedroom.

"Good job today Penelope." She spun in her tracks, seeing him in the corridor behind her.

"Why thank you, Virgil."

"For a rescue rookie, you were very good."

All charitable thoughts fled Penelope's mind. "A rookie?! I'm a trained operative, Virgil. I may not have as much rescue experience as you do but I'm hardly inexperienced."

"Oh really? Well, forgive me for thinking you were a bit worried earlier."

"Worried?" Penelope played with one fingernail casually. "Not at all, Virgil. I had it completely under control."

"You weren't nervous at all today then? Not even when you thought you may have to go down alone?" Virgil had come closer as he spoke and was now only half a metre or so in front of her.

"I fail to believe you never get nervous Virgil. You looked worried enough when the gantry started swinging." She was trying not to rise to the bait, she really was. Why had he even come up here anyway? Just to patronise her?

Virgil's expression tightened. "I was worried that you might fall, seeing as you had already tripped."

"I could handle it," she hissed back at him, refusing to back down despite how close he now was..

"Fine, well next time I won't bother then!"

"Fine!"

They stood staring at each other, mere centimetres separating them now. Penelope was so, so furious with him, standing there all arrogant and handsome and gah! With a frustrated scream she turned on her heel and stormed into her quarters, the sliding door shutting firmly behind her.

Virgil stood for a moment in the hall, putting one hand against the wall to brace himself as he took a steadying breath.

"Are you ok Virgil?" Tintin asked from behind him.

"I...yes, I'm fine." He turned with an easy smile. "Just about to turn in myself."

"Umhmm," Tintin hummed. "But your room is down there." She pointed behind her down the corridor.

"I was just making sure Penelope was ok after the rescue today." He defended himself. "Goodnight, Tintin."

"Goodnight, Virgil." Tintin stood in the corridor a moment longer, looking between their two rooms before a knowing smile stole over her face and she returned to the lounge to join Brains in a card game.


	11. Confusion

Lady Penelope stood in her room, contemplating the outfit that lay in front of her. It was a far cry from the attire she normally wore, but needs must occasionally. She had been made woefully aware the day of the tanker rescue of her lack of physicality, yoga just wasn't quite doing enough to keep her in the shape needed for rescues. Still she cringed as she picked up the shorts. They were made of lycra and oh so revealing. At least she had been able to get some in hot pink, it was her only consolation.

The morning after the tanker rescue, after a fitful night's sleep haunted by disturbing dreams, she had decided she needed to start taking her fitness seriously if she was to be an effective stand in for International Rescue. A few phone calls later and a special package was arranged for the next supply plane. The contents of this package were now arranged in front of her.

With a shudder she threw off her elegant nightgown and stepped into the shorts, grimacing at the way they clung to all her curves and gave her no place to hide. She also pulled on the matching top, thankful she had at least picked one that covered her shoulders. A quick tightening of her shoelaces and she glanced in the mirror to check that she didn't look too terrible.

The reflection showed a very nervous Penelope wearing gym wear for the first time in years. She wasn't particularly unfit, but knew she now needed to up her regime. Her figure was slim and toned, despite the lack of confidence in the clothes she could admit she didn't look terrible. She had chosen an early morning to try the gym - with only two of the Tracy boys on the Island she felt fairly confident she wouldn't be bumping into anyone in there. Last night Parker had been serving some of his special concoctions so she expected most of the other residents would be having a later start today.

She opened the door to her room, carefully looking out into the hallway to make sure it was deserted. She was always given the main guest suite in Tracy Villa, which was on the top floor along with the lounge and the bedrooms of all the Tracy men. Normally this made her feel an included part of the family but today she wished she was in a room closer to the gym, which was the floor below. She would have to walk past nearly every room in the house to get there.

Still, no time quite like the present. Grabbing a towel and putting on her most confident demeanour - as though walking around in hot pink lycra was the most natural thing in the world - she slipped out of room and headed to the main stairs down to the lower level. She didn't encounter anyone in the corridors, although she could hear someone in the kitchen, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she made it to the gym. She opened the sliding door and stepped in, fully intending to head straight to the mats to warm up, when she realised there was already someone in it.

Virgil hadn't yet noticed her as he was facing the window that looked out over the pool, so she took a moment just to look. He was topless - why was he always topless? - and dressed only in some cycle shorts and trainers. His back was straining as he was squatting with a barbell. Penelope watched in fascination as a rivulet of sweat dropped down his back, channelling between his shoulder blades.

Realising that she was stood staring, she instead strode over to the mats on the floor, taking one last look back at Virgil, who was finishing a squat.

"Like what you see?" He teased, laughter in his voice. Penelope realised her quick glance had been noticed and flushed pink.

"Just wondering if you were going to be in here much longer." It was the first excuse she could think of and she knew it was a poor one. She certainly wasn't fooling Virgil, if his sceptical expression was anything to go by. She decided to try to ignore him and get on with her own session, stretching to limber up as it had been so long since she'd done any physical activity that wasn't yoga.

Halfway through her routine she looked over to see that Virgil had put the barbell away and was now watching her warm up. Most likely to criticise her technique or to tease her for being in the gym in the first place. She decided she needed to be the one to strike first. "It's no good standing there like that Virgil, those weights won't lift themselves."

"Oh, are you going to be lifting them?" He challenged. She tried not to focus on his chest, very hard when it was staring at you across the gym.

"Not all of us favour the muscular look," she sniffed, staring pointedly at the offending chest muscles. "Some of us prefer lean and toned."

"Of course you do," Virgil muttered bitterly. "Well these muscles won't stay and offend you any longer Penelope, I'm finished here."

"You are rather ruining my concentration." She stated. He left without even saying goodbye, which insulted her. Such a lack of manners! She turned the treadmill on with rather more force than was necessary, accelerating it too fast before managing to slow it down again. As her feet hit the conveyor belt in a familiar rhythm some of the tension began to melt away. It had been a long time since the cross country running classes she'd taken at school, but you never really forgot and her other activities kept her reasonably fit.

It was half an hour later, after a stint on the static bike as well and finishing with some yoga stretches, that Penelope finally left the gym. She was far less self-conscious on the way back to her room, nodding at Kyrano as he passed on his way out to the small garden.

After a shower to freshen up she felt much more human and went in search of breakfast. Parker, ever helpful, dropped her the latest papers while she was eating. "Why thank you Parker. Any plans for today?"

"H'I wondered if I might be able to do a spot of fishing, m'lady. Kyrano himself 'as promised to show me 'is favourite spots."

"Why of course Parker, I don't think I'll need you at all today. It's very quiet here unless there is a rescue."

"Right you are, m'lady. I'll be seeing you then, call me if h'you need anything."

"Thank you Parker, good fishing." Penelope began to read through the papers, skimming through the headlines and then focussing on the society pages. It may seem trivial, but there were often small nuggets of information help in those pages that could help her in the future.

Tintin walked in while she was reading, making herself a cup of tea from the pot Parker had brought Penelope. "You're up late today, Penelope."

"I was up early Tintin," Penelope responded. "I went to the gym first, however. I'm surprised that Virgil hasn't mentioned it, he was in there when I arrived."

"No, he's holed himself up on the observatory deck painting." Tintin replied. "He seemed in a terrible mood today, so I left him to it."

"He seems to always be in a terrible mood lately," Penelope mused, sipping her own tea with the society pages forgotten next to her. She sat looking out the window, seemingly lost in thought.

Tintin decided enough was enough. "Come with me, Penelope," she demanded, taking one of the aristocrat's hands and leading her out of the kitchen, past the bedrooms and into her father's vegetable garden. At the very end of it, mostly forgotten by the Tracys on the Island, was a little summerhouse that in style looked more like a Japanese tea house. It was Tintin and Kyrano's retreat, somewhere they came to talk just amongst themselves. Today Tintin firmly guided Penelope into one of the small chairs.

"Now Penelope," she started in a tone that brooked no argument. "What is happening between you and Virgil?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

A couple of hours later Tintin was looking for Virgil. Penelope had been most unhelpful, merely spluttering and telling Tintin that nothing was going on, simply that Virgil was being particularly irritating at the moment.

That was enough indication that something was going on. Virgil was many things, but irritating was not one of them. He was the gentle peacemaker of the family, a creative soul, a bit of a tease and a horrendous gossip. But he was never mean or unkind, and Penelope had painted his behaviour towards herself in a particularly unflattering light. After plenty of reassurance to the aristocrat that the man in question was probably just feeling the strain with most of his brothers absent from the Island, she had left the blond happily relaxing with a book on the patio.

Tintin couldn't help but wonder if there was more to it though. Granted, Penelope's crush on Scott was hardly a secret but Tintin had begun to wonder if it now continued more because it was expected to than because Penelope was actually invested in it. It had been taken for granted for such a long time that Penelope and Scott would become an item eventually - much as it used to be assumed that she and Alan would. Tintin rather thought they were wrong on both counts - not only because she was now happily dating Brains and couldn't honestly imagine life without him by her side.

Admittedly, in the beginning there had been a light-hearted banter between the pair of them and Scott would occasionally indulge in a teasing flirtation that Penelope happily reciprocated. But that was the old Scott, the Scott that didn't exist anymore. Nowadays he was polite but reserved, much like he had been with most friends and acquaintances. Penelope obviously still had a soft spot for the oldest brother but Tintin didn't know quite what form that took anymore.

Still, Penelope's confusion not-withstanding, that didn't explain Virgil's supposed behaviour. Now Tintin knew that Virgil had been painting on the observation deck so that was where she headed, grabbing a pot of coffee first as a peace offering.

Virgil was still on the deck, painting brush strokes on the canvas in a forceful manner. He didn't register Tintin's presence at first, he was so focussed on his work.

She decided she was going to have to speak to get his attention. "Hello Virgil, I brought you coffee?"

The artist jumped so much he nearly spilt paint again. "Tintin! Don't creep up on people like that!"

She refrained from pointing out that noisily opening a door and walking up a flight of stairs didn't really count as 'creeping up'. She instead held out the coffee pot that he gratefully took off her, pouring some into a large mug sat on the edge of his easel.

"Thanks Tintin, I really needed that. Is there anything I can help you with or did you just come to bring me coffee?"

"Now Virgil, who says I needed anything?" At his sceptical look, Tintin conceded defeat. "Well ok, I wanted to talk to you about Lady Penelope."

The tightening of his expression and the whites of his knuckles where he held a paintbrush told Tintin all she needed to know, her suspicions were indeed correct. She sat down heavily on the edge of the railing around the deck. "Oh I see. How long?"

"Does it matter?" Virgil had returned to painting, large erratic swipes of the paintbrush against the canvas, hand shaking with the force he was putting behind each stroke.

"No, I don't suppose it really does." Tintin sat in silence for a while, watching the distant view, which really was unrivalled from this spot. They stayed that way for a while, Virgil painting whilst Tintin provided silent comfort. Eventually the younger girl stretched and stood up. "Alright Virgil, I'll leave you to it. Don't stay up here too long, will you?"

"Give me a second to clear up Tintin and I'll come with you." Tintin nodded as Virgil, with practised ease, quickly packed away his supplies. "So," he started with false cheerfulness. "It's your birthday next week. Looking forward to it?"

"Oh yes!" Tintin responded enthusiastically. "It's so kind of Mr Tracy to allow you all to come and celebrate with me as well."

"Well it's not every day our favourite girl turns twenty four." Virgil genuinely smiled as he accompanied her down into the villa. "Any plans other than the party?"

"Oh, well Annie and I are going to go to Cape Cod for a few days afterwards, do some hiking and enjoy the beach, then I'll go with her back to California and hit the malls before coming back to the island." Tintin was pleased to be able to spend so much time with her friend, they didn't get a lot of chances to meet in person due to their different work commitments.

"That sounds lovely Tintin, make sure you enjoy yourself and forget about your degree for a bit. It will wait for a week or so!"

Tintin looked abashed, "I do get a bit carried away, don't I? Sometimes I think Brains may be a bad influence on me."

Virgil stopped and turned towards her. "You and Brains bring out the best in each other Tintin, which is something to be aspired to. He's never a bad influence." He nodded towards his quarters. "I'm just going to go and drop this stuff off, I'll see you in the lounge in a bit."

Tintin waved back at him and continued on alone. The lounge was full, Brains was already there talking with Mr Tracy and Penelope had moved inside with her magazine as the afternoon air had developed a slight chill. Parker was absent but she remembered her father saying something about showing him some of the islands best fishing. When her father went on a fishing trip he was usually gone until nightfall.

She walked over to Brains and squeezed his hand, causing him to look up from his conversation and smile at her shyly. Alan, stood on the balcony overlooking the pool, gave a friendly wave which she returned. Virgil slunk in behind her and Tintin noticed Penelope's fingers tightening slightly around the edge of her magazine. Tintin was about to go over to her friend and talk to her when Scott's portrait started flashing and beeping.

"Come in Scott," Jeff said, pressing a button on his desk. "How is camping treating you?"

Scott's image was very unclear on the screen, which Tintin assumed was due to lack of decent reception when camping. The scenery behind him looked rugged and wild, although the light suggested it was either very early or late. As it was now late afternoon on Tracy Island Tintin assumed it must be quite early for Scott, which was borne out by his opening statement.

"Hello father, everyone. I'd say good morning, but I guess it's afternoon for you all."

"Sure is son. How are you?"

"I'm really well, father. Been keeping busy by exploring, running, relaxing as prescribed. Just wanted to confirm that I've contacted Gordon and I'm going to be flying out in three days to New York to meet him, and we'll stay there a night before heading up to Boston to meet up with you all. He tells me he's sorted out the transport, so who knows how we're going to get there."

Tintin chuckled at that. The only predictable thing about Gordon was his lack of predictability.

"Anyway," Scott was continuing, "I just wanted to check in with you all before I go and to reassure you that I'll drop your car off safely, Penelope."

"I never had a doubt of it, Scott," the blonde's smile was warm as she looked at Scott on the screen.

"It was sure kind of you to let me borrow it, it's been a lifesaver around here. I wouldn't have been able to get around without it. Anyway, that's pretty much all the news I had. Anything much been happening for you guys?"

Alan had come in when Scott called and he now regaled Scott with the details of the tanker rescue. Scott was an engaging listener and Tintin realised how much the island had missed his presence. Scott added his praise to Jeff's for the three that went on the mission and they talked for a short while longer before he ruefully looked at the time and informed them he had to go.

"I'll see you all in Boston though, in four days' time. Take care everyone!"

A chorus of farewells chimed out and Scott was gone. For a moment they all stared at his vacant portrait, before Jeff roused himself. "I must go and see what's happening with dinner tonight, your Grandma was planning to cook and I'd better make sure she doesn't need any help."

"I'll come with you father," Alan volunteered. "I can help if she needs it." The pair headed out together, talking quietly.

Brains and Tintin followed soon after, talking about a potential modifications to Brains' latest project in the lab. They were already in a world of their own and didn't seem to realise that they hadn't said goodbye to the others.

Penelope also rose gracefully from her seat. "It's awfully quiet now everyone has gone again." She felt so much better after seeing and hearing from Scott, the sound of his voice had calmed and reassured her. However, the feeling didn't last long once she realised that she was alone in the lounge again with Virgil.

"Scott looks well," Virgil commented, taking up a position by the piano.

"Oh are you planning to play?" Penelope enthused, she did so love piano. She played herself, but never with the level of skill or grace that Virgil possessed.

"I thought I might." He paused, thoughtfully looking at her. "Join me?" He patted the piano bench next to him.

"Oh I couldn't possibly," she half-heartedly began to protest, although secretly she would relish the chance to play again.

"I have some duets somewhere," Virgil stated, rummaging in a box of sheet music. "Here." He placed a piece on the piano stand. "Now you have to join me, I can't play this piece alone."

"Well, you do make an very convincing argument." Penelope accepted the peace offering for what it was and slid onto the seat next to him to read the piece. It was a charming piece and should just about be within her capabilities. "I am out of practice." She warned.

Virgil just smiled. "Good thing there is no one else here to listen, then." They started playing and Penelope became caught up in the music straight away. She took her pace cues from Virgil, whom she suspected was playing it slower than it should be on her account. The feeling of them working together to create the harmony was intoxicating and the music washed over her, causing her to forget her worries and the stresses of the last week or so.

Eventually the final notes sounded and they both rested their hands. The piece had been demanding and the final position caused their arms to interlink in the middle, although neither moved straight away.

"That was simply marvellous," Penelope breathed, sighing gently. "Absolutely beautiful."

"I couldn't agree more," Virgil replied. As she turned her head towards him she saw that he was looking directly at her, head incredibly close to hers. For a heartbeat she didn't move, eyes flicking from his eyes to his lips. He began to move closer, so slowly she thought she was imagining it. She held her breath, trembling slightly, unable to move lest she break the moment and still he inched closer, ever closer, until -

"Dinner's ready!" Alan bounced in joyfully. Virgil stood from the piano in one fluid motion. "Oh were you playing? And you Penelope? I'm sure sorry I missed that, I've never heard you play."

"Oh, well, I'm not very good." Somehow her voice wasn't shaking, even though she felt like she was made of jelly. "Certainly not up to Virgil's standards."

"You were just great," Virgil replied with an easy smile. "Come on, let's not keep Grandma waiting."

"I'll follow you in a moment, I just need to freshen up." Penelope told them and the boys nodded in acknowledgement before leaving the room to head for the small dining room the floor below.

Once they were gone she sighed deeply, resting her hand on the piano while she tried to steady herself. Being on this Island for all this time was doing something to her, she knew it was. Suddenly the departure to Boston couldn't come soon enough.


	12. The Big Apple

Scott Tracy slung the last of his clothing back into his rucksack. After a moment's hesitation he took the grey dress with him, wanting something more tangible of Angel's to keep with him. His eyes swept around the small bedroom, already missing the quiet if sometimes bittersweet time he'd spent here for the last couple of weeks. Still, his flight to New York was departing in a few hours from Bristol and he needed to get going.

The ground floor was tidy, nothing left to show he'd been there except his holdall by the front door. He shut and locked it, threading the small key he'd made onto the leather thong alongside the well-worn claw. He'd already given the original key back to Jane, along with promises that he would be back soon for a catch up and to keep on top of the maintenance.

He'd spent the last few days scouting out the woods behind the cottage. As he'd thought, the area by an old shooting lodge would make a perfect landing zone for his Thunderbird. Jane had even accompanied him once, helping him to clear flammable brush and debris out of the way of the proposed landing zone so that next time he was in the area he could stop by. Sometime in the future he would likely bring a mixer up and concrete a landing pad but for now the earthen flooring under the trees would be sufficient.

Scott had also spent time just walking, now that he knew that Angel owned the land he wasn't shy about exploring. He'd taken to going running early, enjoying the unusual challenge of running up and down the rough moorland hills. It had been refreshing; truthfully Scott felt better than he had in years, both mentally and physically. He hadn't realised quite how much he'd needed the break until he was here, breathing the fresh air and revelling in the solitude.

Now though, he was off to New York to meet Gordon, where a different type of revelling probably awaited. Gordon was easily the party king of the Island, or at least he thought he was. Scott personally though Alan probably got up to all sorts of mischief on the racing circuit, but if he did he was more circumspect about it.

While he'd been reminiscing he'd reached the car he'd been lent and slung his bags into the trunk. He'd managed to find a driver to take it from the airport back to Penelope's, so he didn't need to drive it all the way to Kent. For once he wasn't flying charter, he would be taking a normal flight – although he had still booked himself into first class. Being the eldest son of a billionaire had some perks, after all.

The drive to Bristol wasn't so bad and before he knew it his luggage was checked in and Scott was in the lounge waiting for the departure. It was strange being back in civilisation, although luckily this flight wasn't particularly full and the lounge only had a few other occupants. He sipped a juice slowly, head buried in a magazine discussing the latest discoveries in particle physics that he had managed to find at the airport shop.

Soon enough he was boarding, settling in to the small private compartment that first class passengers enjoyed. As he'd passed the bar a pretty blond had smiled invitingly at him, which was a very good reason not to return to the communal part of the plane. Instead he reclined his chair and prepared to while away the flight with his magazine.

A couple of hours later Scott was bored. He was only halfway through the flight, but it had still been significantly longer than he'd spent in the air for years. Jeez, he missed his Thunderbird. He'd have been able to get to the Island then on to New York by now if he'd had it. Deciding that he had better go and stretch his legs before they cramped up completely Scott left his compartment to head to the small lounge.

He was relieved to find it virtually empty when he arrived. A small television at the front was on silent with subtitles scrolling across it, a cursory glance showed Scott that it was the World News. Deciding he'd been out of the loop for a while he took a seat at the bar and kept a casual eye on it while passing through some of the papers.

"Why hello there, fancy a drink?"

Oh great, the blond was back. Scott tried to smile instead of grimace and he rotated on the stool to find her leaning against the bar right next to him. Given that there were plenty unoccupied bar stools she'd obviously chosen to be as close as possible.

"No thank you, I'm just checking the headlines."

The blond pouted. "Well how about for me then, honey? Can't leave a girl thirsty, it's impolite."

Bristling at the concept that he might be considered the one being impolite, Scott's good manners came to the fore anyway and he beckoned the air steward over. "Could I have an orange juice please and whatever she would like."

"Vodka and lemonade, and don't be too stingy." This was delivered with a wink at the air steward who looked as unimpressed as Scott felt. Their drinks were delivered efficiently, the steward nodding thanks when Scott tipped him with some dollars he'd had the forethought to pack back on the Island.

"So, you gonna tell me your name honey? I'm Beatrice, Trix to my friends."

"That's nice," Scott replied, grabbing his drink and one of the papers. "If you'll excuse me." He nodded to the air steward and made his way back to his cabin, ignoring the protests of the woman he'd left behind.

As soon as the door shut he breathed a sigh of relief. Now he remembered why he usually chartered a flight – or even better flew himself. Pulling out the paper, he grinned when he realised he'd managed to grab the puzzle section despite the distraction. Arming himself with a pen, he sat down to tackle the killer sudoku.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

One of the perks of being in first class and travelling light was that his luggage was the first off the plane, so Scott managed to avoid Trix entirely as he left the airport. As he walked out into the main concourse he groaned. Standing with a horrendously garish sign was none other than his second-youngest brother, wearing a very bright shirt that managed to contrast with both his hair and all the colours he'd put on the sign.

That the sign which bore Scott's name in capital letters and stood taller than Gordon himself contained ludicrous amounts of glitter and – somehow – flashing lights was nearly enough to make Scott turn around and get the first plane straight out of there. Only the fact that the scary blond had yet to emerge kept Scott moving forwards.

Gordon squealed - honest to god _squealed_ – when Scott came closer, flinging his arms around his oldest brother and dramatically sobbing into his shoulder. Scott couldn't quite make out the words, impressive as Gordon was simultaneously deafening him, but he did make out something about not being able to reach the top shelf and 'why oh why did Scott leave?'

After a moment Gordon pulled back and wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. He seemed to realise he'd pretty much reached Scott's limit as he grabbed the holdall and led them straight out to the taxi rank. Scott tried not to react to the mutterings of the crowd and the sight of more than one lady dabbing a tear at the corner of her eye as he followed his brother, whilst thinking up a myriad of creative ways in which to kill him later.

Once in the taxi Gordon reclined his seat and crossed his legs. "So, how was the journey?"

"Going alright until the end there." Scott gave his brother a scornful look. "Was that necessary?"

"Yep." Gordon replied, popping the p and folding his arms behind his head. "Just needed to remind you that you're here for fun now. We're in New York City and we're going out tonight."

Scott shook his head fondly. "I only have one decent outfit packed and that's for Tintin's party!"

"I thought you would say that!" Gordon declared merrily. "I had Virgil pick you out an outfit before I left so you would have no excuse."

"I'm not going to be able to plead jet lag am I?" Scott didn't really mind much, but it was habit to protest.

"Of course not! You're twenty eight, not forty. We, brother mine, are having a Night Out."

"Right... dare I ask what you have planned?"

"No! It's a surprise. First we have to go check in. I've been staying on Seb's floor but I figured as you're only here one night I could treat you."

"Thanks Gordon," Scott was touched, he had actually expected to be sleeping on a sofa. Although maybe it wasn't quite so surprising, Gordon was actually very generous as far as his brothers went. Scott still remembered when he had gone to the store to buy Alan a toy rocket with his pocket money when he was just seven years old, because Alan's had been broken during an argument with John.

"So, how was camping?"

Scott grimaced slightly. "I gave up after a couple of days, luckily I found a cottage to stay in while I was there in return for lending a hand patching things up a bit." Jane had pointed out, at length, why camping was such a rubbish lie and had suggested something a lot closer to the truth.

"Ha! I knew it!" Gordon crowed. By now they were travelling through the streets of Manhattan, tall skyscrapers surrounding them on all sides. Soon the taxi pulled up outside a swanky looking apartment block, all glass frontage and colourful lights. "Come on," Gordon called, leaping out with Scott's bag. Scott followed, rucksack in hand and looked up at their hotel. "I booked the penthouse," Gordon informed him. "It has four bedrooms and an infinity pool."

"Do we really need four bedrooms?" Scott asked sceptically.

Gordon shrugged. "Who cares, when was the last time we got a chance to spend a night in a good hotel in New York?"

The redhead led the way to the front desk, where his natural charm worked wonders on the receptionist who very quickly produced their keys and promised that champagne would be waiting in their room for them.

"Champagne?" Scott asked as they entered one of the glass elevators that ran up the outside of the hotel.

"Hey, she offered! Who am I to turn a lovely girl like that down?" Gordon grinned and hit the button for the top floor, inserting the key card to prove admission.

Scott had to hand it to Gordon, the kid knew how to live. The penthouse was stunning, with views across the reconfigured lower half of Manhattan. There was a large balcony covered in exotic plants that gave it a jungle air familiar from the Island and the pool was huge, with a glass side that meant even underwater the views could be seen. It also was backlit tastefully with colourful lights, similar to those surrounding the outside of the hotel.

"You can have this room," Gordon called, slinging Scott's bag into one of the bedrooms. Gordon's luggage had been waiting for them in the circular lounge area of the suite. He nosed through the other rooms before deciding on the one opposite Scott's. Both rooms had large french doors onto the patio.

"Now," Gordon called, "You need to freshen up. We're not going out for a few hours, but we have champagne and we'll get something to eat first."

"Sure," The sight of the hotel had caused Scott to forgive his brother for the airport debacle almost immediately and now he was already feeling more relaxed. "Did you say you had some clothes for me?"

"Oh yeah," Gordon tore through his bag, sending clothes flying in all directions, before pulling out a crumpled outfit. "It'll need a press, I'm sure there's someone here that could do it for you."

"Thanks Gordon. I'll be out when I've freshened up."

"I'll get some food ordered for when you are." With a wave Scott disappeared into the room Gordon had allocated to him, clothes in hand.

He'd enjoyed staying in Angel's rustic cottage, but the high end shower in the hotel was heaven. He simply stood and let the water run off him for a while, easing the cramps of the long flight. Once finished, he pressed his clothes and dressed. He had to give it to Virgil, the boy knew how to dress. He'd picked out some navy jeans with a black shirt and pale blue blazer. He'd then paired it with a metallic silver tie, which shouldn't have worked but somehow did. Scott wasn't even sure he owned half these clothes, which meant Virgil had either raided John's or sent his own. Gordon and Alan were just too short, none of their clothes would fit.

Scott had packed a smart pair of shoes in anticipation of Tintin's party, as he pulled them out he realised they suited his outfit perfectly - something else Virgil had probably accounted for. That done, he made sure he didn't look too exhausted with the jet lag and went to meet Gordon in the lounge.

Gordon, as ever, was dressed in garish colours. Admittedly, it actually wasn't as bad as it could be. He'd paired cherry red jeans with a dark shirt and yellow blazer, which was bright but not too headache inducing. He was also clutching pizzas, something that Scott was incredibly pleased about.

"Hey, good timing! These just arrived. Champagne?"

"Why not?" Scott smiled. "I sure appreciate all this, Gordon."

His younger brother shrugged. "I figured, when was the last time Scott and I spent any time together, just the two of us? The answer is basically never, so I wanted to make the most of it."

Scott felt a rush of affection for his fourth brother. It was true, he was far more likely to spend time with Virgil or John on a one to one basis, not least because Gordon and Alan tended to pair up for activities where required. But it was nice to get to spend some time with just Gordon, for once.

"Cheers to that," he agreed, pouring two glasses of champagne from a magnum sat in a cooler on the table and handing one to Gordon. "Now, you promised me a big night out?"

"That I did!" Gordon confirmed. "Seb suggested this new bar that's opened up recently and has really great live music, apparently. I thought we'd go check it out to start, then maybe try out a few other bars on the way back."

"A bar crawl," Scott shook his head. "Only you would come to New York and go on a bar crawl, Gordon."

His brother just laughed, clinking his glass against Scott's. "I said maybe Scott, now come on the pizza is getting cold." The pair sat down to eat, chatting and reminiscing fondly while they caught up on each other's lives.

Pizza consumed and champagne drunk, the pair headed off to the bar that Gordon had been recommended. Even amongst the New York crowd the Tracy boys stood out, garnering admiring glances as they walked down the streets.

The bar exterior was small and quaint, but inside it opened up into a large floor area where two pianos were set up. It was already quite busy as Scott led the way to the bar to order drinks. "What will you have?" He asked Gordon, calling loudly over the noise of the chatter in the bar.

Gordon shrugged. "More champagne?"

Scott raised an eyebrow but complied, passing Gordon a glass while he took his own. He felt pleasantly relaxed after the amount he had consumed earlier - both the champagne and pizza. He'd let Gordon drink more of it than him, but he knew his brother could handle most drinks. You only had to worry about Gordon if he started on the cocktails – especially if tequila was involved.

He suspected Gordon had an ulterior motive behind ordering champagne, which was borne out within a few minutes as Gordon managed to procure an extra glass for the young lady who was stood near them and had started chatting to him. She was very pretty, he could see why Gordon had chosen this one. The downside of playing wing man to his younger brother happened a few moments later, when the lady's friend sidled up to him and tried to engage him in conversation. Luckily enough, the pianists had chosen that moment to start to play and he brushed her off while pretending to listen.

His elbow was knocked and he turned to dissuade the friend once again when he realised it was his brother. "Hey, she was hot," he commented, looking at the woman Scott had just dismissed. Scott smiled at his brother.

"Ah I'm a confirmed bachelor, Gordon. But don't let me stop you chatting, this music is great."

"If you're sure you're alright," and Gordon went back to his new friend. Scott shook his head, smiling, as something Gordon said caused her to laugh loudly.

Scott hadn't been lying, the music was great, and the girl Gordon was talking to was a good conversationalist for the lulls in the music. The champagne kept flowing and Scott soon began to realise that combined with jet lag the drink was taking its toll. He went to tell Gordon he was going to head back to the hotel. His brother immediately offered to come with him but Scott turned him down, promising to call a taxi. He then headed out of the bar, but not before slipping the bartender some money and instructing him to keep the champagne supply going for his brother.

The taxi ride was short and soon Scott was back at the hotel, falling into the king sized bed in the room. He luxuriated in the space for a moment, before falling into a deep sleep.


	13. Reunited

Scott woke feeling remarkably rested despite the amount of champagne he had consumed the day before. He stretched across the huge bed, enjoying the space. Even back on Tracy Island they all had single beds, the price to pay for also hiding laboratories and hangers in a moderately sized villa. He'd enjoyed the double bed at Angel's, tucked under the eaves with a view of the stars. But this, this was true decadence - a bed so wide that even with his long frame he'd be able to sleep a different direction across it each night if he'd wanted to.

Standing, he moved over to the French doors and looked out across the roof garden. It was a slightly grey morning, though he could see the sun starting to break through. On an impulse he grabbed some shorts and a towel and headed out to the pool.

It wasn't quite as big as the pool on Tracy Island, but he could still swim lengths. Not that he put too much effort in today, he just lazily swam whilst enjoying the feeling of the warm water and the weightlessness. Occasionally he stopped for a break at the edge, holding on whilst looking out over the city below.

The sun did come out while he was swimming and when he'd had enough he sat on one of the loungers to dry off. Hearing some movement from inside the lounge, he went to see what had happened to Gordon.

As he entered, it was just in time to see Gordon waving goodbye to his overnight guest as she slipped out of the suite. Gordon turned towards him, a sheepish smile on his face and a piece of paper clutched in one hand.

"Her number?" Scott asked, nodding at the slip of paper. Gordon looked down at it, smoothing it out.

"Yep," and he dropped it into the trash can. Seeing Scott's sceptical glance he spread his hands. "What? I'm a one night stand guy, always have been. I didn't make any promises to call or anything."

Scott shook his head while he picked up the phone for room service, requesting coffees and some breakfast. That done, he turned to his brother. "So what's the plan for today then?"

"Let's see... we eat, check out here and head to our transport. It will take most of the day to get up to Boston, so we'll get there about the same time that Penelope told me the gang from the Island will."

"All day? It only takes four hours on the old interstate ninety five."

Gordon waggled a finger at his brother. "Ah but where would the fun be in driving? Call it my last gift to you, Scotty-boy."

At that moment the food arrived and despite the pizza the night before the brothers fell on it ravenously. Once sated, they took the remainder of the coffee out to the balcony.

"I've got to hand it to you, Gordon. This place sure is swell."

"It's not bad, is it? Pays to have friends who know the area, I guess. Plus flashing dad's name around sometimes really does open doors."

"The irony is how much he hates that."

"I know," Gordon grimaced. "Still, I've spent a couple of days here going over to his office to sort some paperwork out, the least he can do is lend me his name so I can book a nice hotel."

"I wonder what Penelope has in store for us in Boston?" Scott mused. "We're going to be quite the party. She might not even book a hotel, she may try to rent us out a house."

"Whatever she does, she's going to find it hard to top this." Gordon stated, and Scott murmured his agreement. Though knowing Penelope it would still be fantastic.

Eventually the boys were packed and ready to go. Scott reluctantly handed back the key cards to the receptionist and they were on their way. They both travelled light, so Gordon suggested walking to their transport. They went in the direction of the harbour, up to something that looked suspiciously like docks. Sure enough, soon Scott was standing on a quay looking at a small speedboat.

Gordon grinning and slung his case in the back, grabbing Scott's hold-all and doing the same. "Coming?"

"A boat? Really? You are definitely part squid." Scott stepped into the small boat, followed by Gordon who brought the rope and pushed off from the side as he did so.

"Aww come on, sailing up the coast of New England, alongside Long Island... you can't tell me you've never dreamed of it?" Gordon picked up a position by the wheel and engaged the engine, pulling out of the harbour and leaving Manhattan behind.

"Sailing?" Scott queried, looking at the huge engine on the back. "Seems a bit misleading."

He couldn't deny that it was fun, whipping along across the waves with the wind playing in his hair. Pulling his shades down he stood next to Gordon behind the tiny windscreen, the pair of them looking every bit the billionaire's sons in that moment.

They soon reached Long Island, vast mansions reaching down to the edge of the sea interspersed with small piers and towns. It got more remote the further they got from New York, until they reached the end of the island and turned the boat back inland to find the coast of Connecticut. There, they stopped at a pretty sailing town where they managed to find fresh clam chowder for lunch, served in giant bread bowls.

Then it was back on the water again, continuing up the coast, past numerous small inlets and coastal towns. They rounded Cape Cod and headed for the huge natural harbour that contained the city of Boston. Scott had really enjoyed the trip, but he was quite relieved to be nearing their destination. His legs were aching from riding out all the waves and he was feeling the effect of all the salt spray on his skin. Looking over at Gordon, he could see that his brother was also looking very red in his face from the amount of wind and sun. Being so fair, Gordon was particularly susceptible to sun and Scott did wonder if his younger brother would regret this trip later.

They pulled up into a small marina within the harbour, surrounded by large yachts and sailboats. The tiny red speedboat was almost lost amongst its neighbours. Pulling the bags out, they thanked the woman who came to take the keys and called a taxi to the hotel Penelope had specified.

Boston was somewhere Scott had only visited a few times, but he loved the old buildings and architecture. Penelope had chosen a hotel that was built on the edge of the old town, with commanding views as it towered over many of the older buildings.

When they arrived, they found they were not the first of their party there. Tintin and Brains were sitting with drinks in the hotel lobby, breaking into smiles at their arrival.

"Hello Scott, Gordon," she called, greeting them both with a hug. "You've made good time! We weren't expecting you for a little while yet, the others have gone out to see the city but we wanted to just get a drink and relax a little after the flight.

"Hello Tintin," Scott smiled down at her, he was really very fond of the petite woman. She was basically the baby sister he'd never had. "How have you been? Looking forward to your birthday tomorrow?"

"Oh I've been perfectly well Scott, just working on my project with Brains' help." A soft smile was shared with Brains, who beamed back at her. "It's so lovely being back in Boston. It was getting a bit tense at home, there were very few rescues and I think some tempers were getting frayed."

Scott nodded understandingly. It was always a bit fraught when there weren't many rescues to deploy on, it was hard to keep an island full of young men and women occupied.

Whilst Scott had been talking to Tintin, Gordon had gone to the front desk and now returned with two keys. "Seems like we're on floor fifteen, Scott."

"Oh yes," Tintin agreed. "I think Penelope booked us all onto two floors. All you boys are on fifteen while the rest of us are in suites on sixteen. It means that we won't disturb anyone else when we're going to our rooms."

"Sounds good," Scott replied, taking his key off Gordon. "If you don't mind, I'm going to go and wash off all the salt."

"L-Lady Penelope said to meet in the, ah, bar at seven." Brains informed them. "S-she has some plans for this evening."

"Seven it is," called Gordon. "See you then!" The pair of them strolled over to the lifts, which were to the back of the lobby. Scott could see the bar entrance further down the corridor, it looked like a good space and was obviously run as a separate business to the hotel.

It turned out that Gordon's room was opposite his own, although Scott had only managed to get the key in the lock before the door next to his opened and John walked out, drying his hair in a towel.

"I heard voices and thought it must be you two arriving," he explained, towelling his hair dry. "Good holiday, Scott?"

"Very," Scott replied, opening his door and wedging a foot in it. "Drink?"

"No, I'll let you get ready. Come and knock on my door when you've had a chance to shower and change though, and I'll take you up on that."

"Sure thing," Scott replied. "See you in a bit then. Bye Gordon!"

Receiving a wave from his brother, Scott stepped into his hotel room. It was a suite, double doors leading out to a small balcony overlooked the harbour and a living area with smart furniture. Through another door he found a king sized bed. With a happy sigh he flopped down face first onto it, relishing the feel of the soft cotton against him.

Forcing himself back up Scott decided he first needed to get clean, he could almost feel the salt encrusting his face. The bathroom was the epitome of luxury and for once he decided to soak in the giant bathtub in a moment of decadence.

His peace was rudely interrupted by a bang on his door. Frowning, he pulled himself out of the bath and threw on a large, fluffy bathrobe. Towelling his hair dry, he answered the door.

All four of his brothers were stood out in the corridor. John looked impeccable, as always, as he squeezed past Scott into the room. Gordon was wearing another garish shirt - how many did he have? - and was holding a bottle of champagne. Virgil and Alan were both dressed in normal clothes, having just got back from the city.

Alan took one look at his bathrobe wearing brother and nudged Virgil with his elbow. "See? He's definitely getting old!"

"Do come in, why don't you?" Scott asked sarcastically as they all pushed past him into his room anyway.

"Hey, it's the first time we've all been in a room together for... well, forever." Gordon called over his shoulder. "I know we're meeting up with the ladies later but I thought we needed to catch up first, just us. Hey, your suite is bigger than mine!"

"Penelope's playing favourites," John added, looking around. "He even has a balcony."

"Sweet!" Alan called, leaning over the rail. "This harbour view is immense."

Scott shook his head and went to put on some clothes. In the amount of time it took him to throw on a blue shirt and jeans, Gordon had popped the champagne and was pouring glasses. Alan had passed on the champagne and instead had raided the fridge for a cold beer, pulling the ring pull and sipping deeply. John and Virgil were lounging on the sofa, chatting softly whilst waiting for him to arrive.

"Come on, come on, grab a seat." Gordon called, handing him a glass. "Now, a toast! To Tracys on tour!"

"Tracys on tour," they all laughed, chinking glasses and beer cans.

Scott sipped the champagne slowly, not needing to let it go to his head after a tiring day. John looked over at him. "So how was your holiday?"

"It was good, though I gave up on camping pretty quickly and found a cottage to stay in."

"I knew it!" Alan cried. "You're old, but not old enough for camping yet!"

"Watch it with the old!" Scott retorted, throwing a cushion at his youngest brother with deadly aim.

"Well I'm glad you had fun," John was trying to ignore the interruptions. "Maybe it will encourage you to actually take the leave you are meant to have from now on."

Scott smiled at his closest brother. "I reckon it will. How was the Island while I was away? Any good rescues?"

"There was only one that needed all of us," Alan informed him. "It was this tanker where the engine had run away - even Penelope came out for that. Virgil said she did a good job too."

"She did," Virgil confirmed. "She was obviously really nervous at times, but didn't let it faze her."

"You'll need to watch out Gordon, she'll be after your job permanently!" John laughed, receiving a glare from his red headed brother.

"No chance of that, none of you can drive Thunderbird 4! I think we've proven Scott is a dead weight though, perhaps it's time for him to retire."

"Hey!" Again a pillow was launched at a brother, although this time Gordon was expecting it and managed to deflect it onto Alan. Having been hit in the face by two cushions now, the youngest stood up with an evil grin.

"Right," he started and began to pummel Gordon with a cushion. Gordon, never one to back down, grabbed a cushion and returned fire. John pulled the glasses out of the way with a shout.

"Aren't we a bit too old for a pillow fight?!"

Gordon and Alan paused in their battle, looking at the blonde incredulously. "Too old? Never!" And John found himself in the centre of their combined attack.

Scott and Virgil managed to stay out of harm's way - for a moment, anyway, before a mistimed throw sailed over John's head and hit Scott in the face. The pair of brothers shared a conspiring glance before grabbing their own cushions and leaping into the fray.

Fifteen minutes, several bruises and a pile of feathers later, five exhausted men lay on the floor of Scott's hotel room giggling like small children. Someone, most likely John, had managed to ensure that all the drinks were well out of harm's way. The sofa wasn't quite so lucky, tipped over on its back when Virgil had collided with it. One of the cushions had burst open, leading to the feathers that were now covering all of them.

Scott propped himself up on his elbows, still laughing at the state of his siblings. "I needed that. It really has been too long since we were actually all in a room together."

John was lying on his back with his arms folded behind his head. "Hopefully with Brains' new monitoring system it won't be quite so long until the next time."

"How did that go?" The question was from Gordon, turning onto his side to face John.

"I think it's ok," John replied. "It's just hard to tell as we haven't had a call through yet. It controls pretty much all of Thunderbird 5's feeds, it can listen in and alert ground if there is anything brewing. It will never be as good as having a person up there, but it can cover for short periods. The main problem is that we've never tested it properly as it's always been in a laboratory setting."

"Makes sense to do it now then, before any emergency that might actually require us all to be on the ground." Virgil commented, trying to blow a feather off the end of his nose.

"Hey, what time are we meant to be meeting Penelope?" Alan asked suddenly, from his vantage point hanging upside down off one of the chairs.

"Seven...oh cripes." Gordon flew upright. "It's quarter to and we look like this!"

The momentary panic had all the brothers standing again, but the sight of the state they were all in soon had them dissolving back into giggles.

"Scott you have feathers in your hair," Virgil wheezed, struggling to breathe. "You look like a crested cockatoo!"

That set Alan back off, doubling over and clutching his side where a stitch was forming.

"Right!" Scott called, feeling that as the eldest he had to get a grip on the situation before it got any more out of hand. "Everyone, out! Back to your rooms, we have ten minutes to clean up and get downstairs!"

"Yessir!" Gordon threw him a military salute and left, prompting the others to follow. Scott dived into his bedroom to try to make himself more respectable despite feeling that he was fighting a losing battle. Ten minutes wasn't long enough to locate and remove every single feather but at least he got them out of his hair.

Deciding that he was at least acceptable he sprinted out the room, nearly colliding with John in the corridor. The brothers took the elevator down together, although Scott stopped by the front desk to request a clean-up for his room. He'd already decided he would be leaving a hefty tip after this weekend.

Penelope was waiting with Tintin and Brains in the bar. Somehow Gordon and Alan had already made it, although the latter looked even more dishevelled than usual with his shirt half hanging out. As Penelope rose to greet John, Scott mouthed 'shirt' to his youngest sibling who managed to take the hint and hurry to make himself presentable. Tintin's giggle and Penelope's knowing look suggested that he hadn't been all that subtle, but it didn't really matter.

"Hello Scott darling, how are you?" Penelope brushed a fragrant kiss against his cheek. "We so missed you on Tracy Island."

"Hi there Penelope, it sounds as though you all got on fine without me. Weren't you and Virgil the dream team on the tanker?"

Penelope sniffed. "Well I'm not sure about that. Where is Virgil, anyway?"

It took another five minutes for Virgil to appear, but when he did he looked immaculate. Idly, Scott wondered how on earth he always managed to look quite so dapper. Except for the feather that was still attached to his hair, just behind one of his ears. Scott decided not to mention it and from the slightly evil grins on his brother's faces he could tell they were all on the same page.

"Well, now that we're all here," Penelope started, pointedly glaring at Virgil who looked completely unabashed. "Perhaps I can tell you the plans for this evening. Now, I've assumed that most of you don't know Boston that well, so I've booked you a table at this fabulous tapas bar in the Back Bay Area. Parker has arranged for a car for you."

"Booked us, Penelope? Aren't you joining us?" John asked the aristocrat.

"Oh but we thought it would be lovely for you to go out, just the five of you." Tintin spoke up. "It's been so long since you were all together."

"Tintin and I have been booked into an evening spa, not far from here." Penelope added. "And Brains is planning to meet up with a former associate for drinks."

"E-exactly," Brains smiled. "We are, uh, planning to d-discuss the implementation of the p-productivity matrix to t-transformative conundrums."

"Wow...you have fun with that," Gordon muttered under his breath, getting shut up by an elbow from John.

"Thanks Penelope, that's really thoughtful of you," Scott smiled at her, receiving a dazzling smile in response. "We don't get much of a chance to all catch up together, even at home we're usually working on different projects."

"Of course, you'll have to let me know what you think of the restaurant." Penelope waved his thanks of airily. "I do believe your car should be waiting outside. Have fun, gentlemen."

They all chorused their thanks and began to leave the bar, only pausing when Penelope called out to them.

"Oh and Virgil, is there any reason why you are wearing a feather in your hair?"

Without even looking, Virgil reached up and snagged the offending feather before continuing to walk out. Barely containing their giggles, the other brothers followed with a wave at Brains and the girls.

Dinner was boisterous and fun, the food delicious and atmosphere electric. They stayed there for some time, enjoying the jugs of sangria and ordering more plates whenever they felt peckish. They talked at more depth than they had for ages - Scott hadn't been wrong when he said that even though they lived on an island together they were so often too caught up in International Rescue or their own projects to just hang out and chat. It was also a different dynamic when all five of them were together.

Eventually they headed back to the hotel and tumbled into their rooms. Scott's last thought before falling asleep was that it had been a brilliant day all in all. The next day might be Tintin's birthday but it had a lot to live up to!


	14. TinTin’s Birthday - Part 1

Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward felt rather frazzled. Not that she was showing it, of course, ladies simply didn't show if they felt stressed. But she did really want today to go well, she didn't often get the chance to throw a party for such a close friend as Tintin. There were already some slight hurdles in the way of her plan, Patience had cancelled with late notice as her visit to Vancouver had been moved a couple of days earlier and Annie's plane had been delayed until early evening meaning that she would inevitably be late. This meant that Penelope had to change her plans for this evening slightly. She had originally arranged for them all to go out to a restaurant before returning to the bar at the hotel for their solstice ball, but now she simply arranged for the food to be provided here for them first. It would allow Annie to participate straight away whenever she did turn up.

For now though, Penelope was going to sit and enjoy her rather nice cup of tea on the harbour veranda. She had arranged to have sole use of the veranda this morning, with one long table laid out with a variety of breakfast items.

Tintin arrived, slipping into the seat next to Penelope. "Good morning Penelope, what a lovely day. Brains will be down in a few minutes, he just wanted to send an email to Mr Tracy after his meeting last night."

"Oh, of course," Penelope replied. "Did he have fun?"

"Oh yes," Tintin nodded emphatically. "He was made up that he had the opportunity to meet up with his old friend."

"I'm so pleased to hear it. Tea?"

At Tintin's nod, Penelope picked up the delicate teapot and expertly poured a cup for her friend. She had also made sure the staff had provided plenty of coffee, she knew how much the rest of the party would need it first thing in the morning. Tintin gratefully took the offered cup and sipped, looking over the sea of masts in the harbour.

"This is idyllic," the brunette sighed.

"Happy birthday Tintin." Penelope smiled at her friend and passed over a small, beautifully wrapped gift box.

"Oh Penelope you shouldn't have!" Gasped Tintin. "You've already arranged this whole weekend - this is too much!"

"Well what is the point of riches if one can't use them to spoil one's dearest friends?" Penelope replied airily. "It's just a small thing, Tintin."

Tintin opened the box to find a pretty bracelet made of delicately twisting strands of metal looped together. "Oh Penelope it's lovely, thank you."

"You're very welcome," Penelope smiled at her friend, before spying a figure lurking by the doors of the veranda. "Why, good morning Brains."

"G-good morning, Penelope." But the engineer only had eyes for his girlfriend. He also held a small box, larger than Penelope's but of a similar design.

"I, ah, happy birthday." And he shyly passed the box over.

"Thank you," Tintin smiled at him, opening the box to find a necklace and earrings. Like the bracelet, the design was a few very delicate twisted strands of gold that came together at the front and dropped down elegantly. The earrings were the same design. "Oh, it's beautiful Brains!" She exclaimed, leaning forwards and kissing his cheek.

"Lady P-Penelope helped," Brains admitted shyly, ducking his head in embarrassment.

"Oh tosh," Penelope replied airily. "I simply helped with logistics. You picked it out yourself."

"Well thank you, both of you," Tintin said sincerely. "I really do love it." She squeezed Brains' hand and smiled tenderly at him.

"Well," Penelope looked away from the couple, offering them a moment of privacy. "I do wonder when any of the boys are going to turn up, there is no telling how late they were out last night."

Tintin giggled. "Or what state they will be in when they do!"

Brains poured himself a cup of coffee. "I don't t-think it will be too bad, I bumped into them w-when I got back last night."

"Maybe they can act their age sometimes," Penelope said thoughtfully, sipping from her teacup.

"Penelope!" Tintin admonished with a giggle. "They aren't all that bad!"

"The first thing they did when arriving at a luxury hotel was have a pillow fight," Penelope retorted, one eyebrow raised. "They may have tried to hide it, but Parker heard one of the cleaners complaining to reception. They are indeed that bad."

Any further discussion over how mature the Tracy boys may or may not be was cut off by the arrival of the eldest two. Scott was still struggling with the jet lag and had woken early to hit the hotel gym. John had heard him returning and joined him for his walk down to breakfast.

"Morning ladies," Scott called cheerily, taking a seat next to Brains. "How are we all today? Happy birthday, Tintin."

"Thank you Scott," the girl replied, smiling at the brothers. "Did you have a good time last night?"

"Very, thank you Tintin," John replied. "It was nice to have an opportunity to catch up, thanks Penelope."

"You're very welcome," Penelope replied, pleased that her plan had been a success. She knew that the brothers were close and didn't think she could remember a time when they were all in the same place at the same time. She snuck a quick glance at Scott, who was gazing across the harbour enjoying the view. His blue eyes sparkled in the morning light, his features enhanced. Yes, Scott was definitely the best looking Tracy son, even if he was completely unaware of it.

World put back to rights after an unsettling couple of weeks, Penelope tuned back into the conversation to find that Tintin, Brains and John were discussing their plans for the day. Plans that apparently involved walking the freedom trail across Boston.

"Will you come with us, Penelope?"

"Not this time I don't think, Tintin. I would rather like to visit a couple of shops that stock some of my personal favourite brands, I think I may see if I can find a slot free with a shopper."

"Oh, you're going shopping?" The keen newcomer was Alan, dragging his remaining two brothers in tow. "I could really use getting some new suits for the sponsor parties with racing. And weren't you saying that you needed some new suits, Virgil?"

"Oh I'm sure Virgil doesn't want to be dragged around shops with me," Penelope added hastily, not relishing the thought of spending a lot of time in close proximity to Virgil again. Not after the Piano Incident, as she had taken to calling it in her mind. She wasn't sure what rankled most, the fact that Virgil had immediately reverted to his previous behaviour afterwards and never mentioned it again, or the fact that perhaps she wished he had. "It won't be interesting for either of you," she amended, realising that she sounded too defensive.

"Oh, I don't mind," Alan stated, slipping into a chair and grabbing some fruit from the centre of the table. "I'm sure Virgil wouldn't either."

"Virgil can speak for himself," the sibling in question stated. "And I wouldn't dream of interfering with Lady Penelope's shopping spree." He looked at Penelope briefly with an unreadable expression before helping himself to some coffee from a pot produced by a waiter.

"So, Penelope is shopping with Alan, whilst we're heading over to the freedom trail." John stated. "Scott, Virgil, Gordon? Any opinions?"

"I think I'll join you on the trail," Scott decided, smiling that dazzling smile that caused Penelope's knees to go weak.

"I'm up for shopping," Gordon declared. "Provided Penelope doesn't think we'll cramp her style, that is."

"Not at all," she reassured him. "I just wouldn't want you to get bored."

"I think I'll paint," Virgil stated, looking over the harbour. "It's a beautiful view and the light is amazing. I'll just check if I can set up out here."

"I reserved this veranda for our use all day," Penelope informed him. "You shouldn't be disturbed."

"Thank you," he caught her eye and she felt herself blushing at his sincerity, before awkwardly clearing her throat. "So, now that we're all here, should I call for breakfast?"

At the resounding affirmative from the party, Penelope signalled to Parker who immediately informed the servers that breakfast was required. There were definitely some perks to being a lady at times.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Shopping with Alan and Gordon was far more fun than shopping alone Penelope decided, giggling again at the antics of the brothers. She had long since finished the shopping she wanted to do, now Gordon was trying on ever increasingly garish outfits while his brother was egging him on remorselessly. Rather irritatingly, Gordon really could pull off most of the combinations he tried, even with his red hair clashing with many of the outfits.

Covering more giggles with a hand, Penelope realised how frantic the poor sales woman was looking now. "Maybe it's time for us to get some lunch?" She asked diplomatically. Gordon caught her glance and beamed a dazzling smile at the sales woman, who stood no chance in the face of the Tracy charm.

"I'm so sorry we've taken so long, it's just there are so many wonderful clothes here."

"Oh, it's quite alright sir. Take as long as you need."

"Hmm...I think I'll take...this one, and this one. Do you agree, Penelope?"

"Oh definitely Gordon, those are rather lovely outfits." Penelope was relieved to see that Gordon had picked out two of the more muted sets of clothing to purchase. "Anything for you, Alan?"

"Oh no," the youngest brother waved a bag with a grin. "I picked some things out a while ago, I'm done. You mentioned food?"

"I did indeed," Penelope confirmed, shepherding the siblings out of the store with purchases clasped in their hands. "I understand there is a rather quaint little cafe near here, which it would be remiss of us not to visit."

"Well indeed," Gordon stated, offering his arm. "M'lady?"

Giggling, she allowed Gordon to escort her to the cafe where they sat in a quiet booth and enjoyed a light lunch. Afterwards the brothers wanted to continue exploring the city but Penelope was feeling rather tired after such an exciting morning. After loading Parker with their bags, the Tracys disappeared into the Boston streets while Penelope headed back to the hotel.

"Shall h'I call for tea in your room, m'lady?" Parker asked her as they arrived.

"Oh no Parker, I'll just go and sit on the veranda a moment. It really is too beautiful a day to be cooped up quite yet. I just needed a moment of peace, that is all."

"H'I quite agree, m'lady. Those boys are a trifle boisterous, if you know what h'I mean."

"They are indeed Parker, fun though. I'll be up in a little while, don't worry about me. I'll call for you when I'm ready."

Parker doffed his cap and went to distribute the bags to the correct rooms. Penelope headed out to the veranda, leaning on the balcony and breathing in the harbour air while she enjoyed the view. It really was a lovely scene, a forest of masts bobbing together from the yachts in the marina and an old wooden ship moored in the distance. Further out, she could see the gentle mounds of the islands in the harbour mouth protruding against the sky. She wasn't quite sure how long she stood there, gazing into the distance.

Penelope's contemplation was broken by a quiet cough, she spun around to see Virgil set up with his easel further back on the veranda. He looked at her apologetically.

"I didn't want to disturb you," he explained. "But I didn't want to startle you either."

"Oh, I'm not disturbed." She smiled a genuine smile at him, still feeling at peace from the setting. "Can I see your painting?"

Virgil looked hesitantly at the piece in front of him. "I'd...rather you didn't," he explained sheepishly. "You see, it isn't finished. I don't like to show anyone my pieces until they're done."

"Please," Penelope asked softly. She didn't know why she persisted if Virgil wasn't keen, but a part of her really wanted to see his work in action. Virgil looked torn before finally agreeing with a curt nod of his head. She moved around close to him to see the painting and he stepped back away from it.

Penelope's breath caught in her throat. The painting was unfinished, true, but it was exquisitely done. Even in its incomplete state the harbour felt alive, she almost expected the boats to be bobbing in their moorings and the water to sparkle as it moved. It wasn't that which rendered her speechless though.

Stood against the balcony rail, face turned to the side and staring out across the harbour, there was a figure. A figure that looked very familiar and yet not familiar at all. In Virgil's painting, Penelope looked luminous. Her skin glowed, her lips parted with unspoken words and her eyes gazing into the unknown. It suddenly felt too personal, private somehow.

She stepped back, faltering slightly. "Virgil, it's beautiful." She croaked, finding her voice strangely absent. Swallowing slightly, she tried again, putting on her best socialite voice. "Really, very lovely. You have a talent. But you are too flattering with your painting." She laughed quickly, patting his arm. "I'll leave you to it, don't forget there is actually a party this evening."

She fled the balcony quickly, leaving Virgil stood alone on the veranda behind her.


	15. Tin-Tin’s Birthday Part 2 - Penelope

Back in her suite Penelope brushed off Parker's enquiries and retreated to her room. She then did something very uncharacteristic, she lay on her bed on her back fully dressed staring up at the ceiling. She was trying to make sense of her jumbled thoughts. The last couple of weeks had not been easy, a part of her couldn't wait until she returned to England and the safety of her manor. Her normal life was reliable, controlled and predictable. Nothing about the last two weeks had been anything of the sort.

She had loved Scott for such a long time, even if she had never quite thought she was in love with him. From afar, of course. His authoritative manner, tendency to get straight to the point and yet still show much care to those close to him had all resonated within her. It helped that he was very pretty to look at – all dimples, chiselled cheekbones and blue eyes. She found him comforting and reliable. He would fit in well amongst her social circles – and being ex-military would see him in good standing with some of the old boys she had to pander to occasionally.

After all, it was the most logical match. He was older than her by a mere nine months, he was the natural successor to Jeff and he already ran a good portion of the business. She would easily be able to explain his frequent absences as being work related and she herself would have a good excuse to spend more time hiding away on Tracy Island.

She silenced the small nagging voice that asked if she really wanted predictable and logical.

It didn't even cross her mind that maybe Scott wouldn't want these things, after all marriages were basically business arrangements.

For now, she needed to put all of that out of her mind. Today was all about Tintin, so what Penelope needed now was a nice, hot bath and to get dressed for tonight.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

A couple of hours later Penelope was feeling much more settled, it was a wonder how much a good bath and a pamper session could do you. A knock at the door and Parker was informing her that Tintin and Brains were waiting, naturally she requested they be shown in straight away.

Tintin looked fabulous and Penelope wasted no time in telling her so. She was wearing a peacock blue dress that finished above her knees. A cloak covered in blue feathers trailed behind her and she had one feather delicately pinning her hair out of her face. Brains was wearing a tuxedo, cravat matching Tintin's dress perfectly.

"Why thank you Penelope, you look rather lovely yourself." Penelope accepted the compliment gratefully, she knew that her pale pink evening gown suited her well. One of her main reasons for choosing this specific hotel was that there was a black tie event planned for the night of Tintin's birthday, where they could dress up and enjoy the live music scheduled.

"Well then, shall we go and find ourselves some drinks?" Penelope asked, looking at the time.

"L-lady Penelope, would y-you allow me to escort you?" Brains asked formally, holding out an arm for her.

"Why Brains dear, I'd be delighted but shouldn't you be escorting the birthday girl?"

Tintin giggled. "Oh he will be Penelope, he has two arms after all."

Smiling, both girls took one of Brains' offered arms and allowed him to escort them to the elevator and then out to the veranda where they had earlier agreed to meet for drinks and something to eat. As they crossed some of the public spaces of the hotel there were many who stared at the unassuming young man who was escorting two such lovely companions.

Reaching the veranda Penelope was surprised to see it had been transformed for the evening. The table in the centre was gone and now a low table full of delicate edible treats ran along one end. A couple of small tables were dotted about with high bar stools and there was some gentle music playing in the air from a harpist sat discreetly at the opposite end to the food. Large urns of night scented flowers filled the evening with their delicate fragrance and small lights ran along the length of the balcony rail, creating a magical effect against the harbour where the sun was only just beginning to fade.

"Oh, it's beautiful!" Tintin cried, delighted by the effect. Brains let Penelope go with a short bow and enveloped Tintin in his arms as she stared out across the view.

A cough behind them caused Penelope to turn around, finding that Scott, John and Gordon were already there. All three were wearing tuxedos similar to Brains and looked incredibly dashing.

"Did you arrange all this?" Penelope gestured at the veranda.

"We wanted to do something nice for Tintin, we know that you were planning a restaurant but that her friend's late plane messed it up." John answered, although all three brothers looked very self-satisfied so Penelope knew they had all had a hand in it.

"The harpist will only be here for a bit, we know that Tintin will want to go dance," Gordon continued. "It's only a light meal too, but we thought that made the most sense with the dancing."

"You did very well," Penelope murmured, taking in her friend's enraptured face. "I couldn't have done it better myself."

"Why thank you, a compliment indeed." John smiled at her. "The only thing we couldn't get was service out here, all of the staff are occupied with the ball so we have to go to the bar to get our own drinks."

"Oh great, you're here. Do you have it?" Scott was directing his words behind her, Penelope turned to see Virgil and Alan approaching. Both were wearing matching smug grins.

"Sure did," Alan replied, waving a small boxed gift. "And we should have timed it perfectly."

He handed the box to Scott, who stepped forwards and interrupted Tintin and Brains with a soft cough. "Happy birthday, Tintin. This is from all of us." He presented the box to her.

"Oh, you shouldn't have! Just having you here is enough of a gift." Tintin unwrapped the small box to find a delicate gold watch. "Oh it's beautiful," she stated, holding her arm out for Brains to help her put it on.

"Now," John started quietly. "Call International Rescue."

Tintin's eyes grew wide as she realised the implications. "My own watch? Does that mean...?"

"That you're now a fully-fledged member?" This time it was Virgil who answered, smiling at her. "You sure are, provided you want to be."

"Of course I want to be!" Tintin pulled the watch closer to her mouth and spoke softly. "Come in International Rescue."

Jeff Tracy's image appeared immediately in the screen. "Happy birthday Tintin!" he smiled at her. "I hope my boys have been treating you well."

"Oh yes, Mr Tracy. It's been such a wonderful day."

"I'm very pleased to hear it. Now, there are some people here that wanted to say something to you." Tintin's view changed, instead of looking at Jeff's desk instead she could see the lounge of the villa. A large banner was hung in the middle wishing her a happy birthday and her father was stood with Grandma Tracy in the centre. On cue, they popped streamers at the screen.

"Happy Birthday!"

Jeff joined them in the screen as they all toasted her birthday with coffee mugs. Tintin blinked back the tears as Grandma Tracy spoke into the screen, far too loudly and very slowly. "Now you have a lovely day dear. We'll make sure we save you some cake!" She pointed at a huge cake sat on the coffee table, three slices already cut and arranged on plates for the household.

Jeff spoke again. "We'll leave you to enjoy your day now Tintin. Have fun!" Her father just smiled and waved, but he was a man of few words and Tintin appreciated the gesture.

"Thank you," Tintin replied. "I'll see you in a week or so." She waved back as the feed cut out. Suddenly Scott found his arms full of a very emotional birthday girl, who proceeded to make her way amongst all the brothers bestowing hugs.

"I-it's programmed to your voice," Brains explained, once Tintin had finished with them all. "Only y-you would be able to activate it, for everyone else it is j-just a watch."

Tintin's response was to launch at Brains, this time fastening her lips to his as well.

Scott cleared his throat and awkwardly looked anywhere else. "I'm going to go and get some drinks. What would you all like?"

John soon volunteered to accompany his older brother when it was apparent that Scott would struggle to remember the whole order, let alone transport it back to the veranda. List in hand, the two brothers slipped back into the building that Penelope could see was much more crowded than when she had arrived.

She spent a moment discussing Boston and its history with Alan, who had partaken in a guided tour when she had returned to the hotel earlier. However, her discussion was soon interrupted by a new arrival.

"Tintin!" an English accent called happily. Turning, Penelope could see Annie rushing forwards and engulfing the other girl in a hug. Annie was wearing jeans and a plain top, spying her small bag on the veranda Penelope assumed that she must have come straight out to find Tintin upon her arrival to the hotel.

"Annie!" Tintin replied enthusiastically. "I'm so glad you could make it. Bad journey?"

Annie pulled a face. "Long, but ok. I'll be pleased to have you for company for the return. Hello Brains," she waved at the engineer, who happily waved back.

"Oh you must let me introduce you!" Tintin cried. "Brains you know of course, and Penelope." Here Annie waved at Penelope, who responded with a smile. "The others are Virgil, Gordon and Alan."

Virgil stepped forwards to greet Annie. "Hello again," he turned his one hundred watt smile on the poor girl, taking her offered hand and pressing it to his lips. "Enchanté."

Tintin rolled her eyes at his antics. Penelope felt a surge of irrational anger, accompanied by a hot, uncomfortable feeling in her gut. She pointedly looked away over the harbour as she heard Gordon welcome Annie into the group in an exaggerated manner, grasping her hand with both of his and pumping it wildly as though not to be outdone by his brother.

"Would you like a drink?" Virgil asked the newcomer, once Alan had also been introduced.

"Oh yes, John and Scott are inside getting drinks now," Tintin agreed.

"There are more of you?" Annie laughed at them. It was very hard not to like the Tracys immediately, but even the three she had been introduced to were larger than life characters.

"Just the two," Tintin reassured her. "They're the sensible ones, it's ok."

"The handsome ones, as well," Penelope added teasingly, leading to a round of protests from Gordon and Alan. Virgil simply took a step away, his expression unreadable.

"I think I'll pass," Annie smiled at the boys. "I will go and get dressed in a moment, I just wanted to come and let Tintin know I was here."

"Oh, did you pick up a key card?" Tintin asked her. "If you don't mind, you're sharing a suite with Brains and I." Annie reassured her that it was fine. She stayed to chat to the boys for a few minutes longer before departing, promising to find them in the ballroom as soon as she was ready.

Not long after she left, Scott and John returned with the tray of drinks. "Sorry it took so long," Scott apologised. "It's really busy in there and some of the cocktails you ordered were pretty obscure." He shot an accusatory glance at Alan and Gordon, who were drinking elaborate concoctions with lashings of fruit.

"Oh you just missed Annie!" Tintin said, disappointed at not being able to introduce all of her friends to each other.

"She'll be b-back soon, Tintin." Brains reassured her, passing her a cocktail from the tray. Tintin smiled in return, sipping the drink slowly.

Once the drinks were passed out, Virgil and Gordon gathered the remains of the buffet and the party moved into the ballroom. Penelope had reserved them a booth and it was immediately obvious which one, Parker was standing guard to make sure that no opportunists snuck in to help themselves to the champagne the hotel had provided.

The ballroom was decorated in bright, floral colours. The ball was a midsummer ball and garlands of flowers would around all the pillars between the booths and were strung across the ceiling in sweeping waves. Amongst the flowers hundreds of small lights were entwined, illuminating the garlands and adding to the atmosphere. The scent of the flowers hung in the air around the room.

The booth Penelope had reserved was raised slightly from the ballroom floor. At the far end there was a stage where a band was already playing. Close to the stage there was a large dancing area, already packed with dancers. Then there were a few tables spread out on the edge of the dance floor with the booths around the edge of the room. The spot Penelope had chosen had direct access to the dance floor but was also close enough to the bar to be very convenient. The booth contained a large curving bench and some individual stools around a table in the centre. Penelope sat at one end of the bench, Brains the other and the rest of their party arranged in between. Scott and John had taken the two stools, backs to the dance floor.

It was loud, but no so much that they couldn't talk. Penelope spoke to Gordon briefly about his marine symposium and John about his latest astronomical paper. It was while talking to the latter that she heard Virgil speak over the music.

"Say, when will Annie get back down here?" The hot flare surged in Penelope again, unexpectedly.

"Yeah," Gordon sighed in agreement. "She was beautiful."

"Does that mean we might finally get to meet the elusive Annie?" Scott asked, with a raised eyebrow.

"Honestly, she's just someone who happens to be my friend!" Tintin replied with a touch of exasperation. "In answer to your questions, Virgil I imagine fairly soon now, Gordon just no and Scott she's hardly elusive if everyone else has managed to meet her before."

"I haven't either," John added. "Trust our bad timing!"

"Why no?" Gordon looked put out. "I liked her."

Tintin waved a finger threateningly at him. "If I won't let Virgil near her, why on earth do you think I would let you? I don't have many friends, I won't let you torment her and scare her away."

"OK, OK, I get the point, she's off limits." Gordon pouting into his champagne flute. "But I want it on the record that no woman I spend time with ever feels tormented, thank you very much."

"I think it's time to dance." Penelope stated to change the topic of conversation. "Scott, care to accompany me?"

Scott looked surprised to be asked but duly stood and extended his hand like the gentleman he was. As Penelope led him onto the floor, she snuck a glance backwards and saw that Virgil was now staring morosely into his glass. A guilty feeling of satisfaction stole over her. She was dimly aware that Tintin and Brains had also taken to the floor on the edge near their booth. She steered Scott right into the middle of the crowd, until they were shielded from view by other dancers.

The song was lively and Scott was a willing enough partner, taking her hand and spinning her when appropriate. Penelope rested her hand on the top of his shoulder, barely touching him but very aware of the heat of him as he danced close by. The song turned slow and Penelope daringly moved her hand to the back of his neck, pressing closer and gently stroking the bottom of his hair with her fingers. Scott stiffened and lost his easy rhythm, his dance steps becoming rigid. Penelope was pleased to note how he was affected by her proximity, as he should be. Deciding that maybe she had waited long enough, she summoned up her courage.

"I've been thinking," she started, not speaking loudly but enough that Scott would hear her. "That it might be time to move our friendship up to the next level." Scott stood stock still at this, not looking at her but as she was still incredibly close to him that didn't matter. He was clearly listening. "I know that we've always been good friends Scott, but I think maybe we could be so much more, that there is something exciting here if we are just willing to explore it."

Scott didn't reply, so Penelope pulled back and looked at him. He still wasn't watching her, his eyes gazing into the distance. It was difficult to tell but Penelope thought he looked rather pale.

"Scott, are you ok?"

He snapped his eyes down to hers, a distracted expression on his face. "I'm sorry Penelope, I thought I saw..." He looked back up again and if he looked pale before it was nothing to how he looked now – what little colour he had drained from his face. Penelope became very seriously concerned that he was going to faint in the middle of the dance floor. Instead, he dropped her hand completely. "Excuse me," he muttered, beginning to make his way out of the crowd of dancers without caring who he knocked on the way.

Penelope was left in the middle of the sea of dancers, very surprised and completely alone.


	16. Tin-Tin’s Birthday part 3 - Tin-Tin

Tintin had so far had a wonderful day. Her friends had gone above and beyond to make sure she enjoyed herself, she had received some really lovely presents and had been able to show Boston off to its historic best. She had then attended a drinks reception that was simply magical and to top it all off she had been gifted with an International Rescue watch! The watch symbolised the fact she was now truly one of the team and she couldn't be more grateful. And she had done it all with Brains right by her side. It was perfect.

She was now dancing with Brains at a ball, feeling like a princess in her gown. She had left the train of feathers on her seat in the booth, worrying that it may get damaged on the busy dance floor. Brains was awkwardly shuffling along with her, she knew he wasn't much of a dancer but he hadn't hesitated to ask her once Lady Penelope made the first move towards the floor. After one song, she pulled him back towards the booth and he flashed her a grateful smile.

Tintin was about to join him, when a figure entering the ballroom caused her to pause. Annie was stood uncertainly in the doorway, looking around. Without hesitation Tintin made her way to her friend, greeting her with an embrace.

"Annie, I'm glad you made it back down. You look beautiful." Her friend was wearing a dark red gown, so deep it was nearly black in the ballroom. It was figure hugging all the way down to her knees, when it flared out into a fishtail. The sleeves were wide and trailed down past her wrists, but otherwise it fit her like a glove.

"Thank you Tintin," Annie said self-consciously. "I don't go out to many balls, so I had to go and find something – I tried the shop you recommended in the mall near me. You look amazing as well."

Now that Tintin wasn't wearing the cloak her dress was arguably too short for a black tie event, but it was helping to keep her cool in the summer heat. "Thank you Annie. We're sat over in this booth."

She started to lead Annie over to the booth. "The blond with his back to us is John Tracy, one of the brothers you didn't meet earlier." As she spoke, John turned to say something to Brains and his face came into profile. Annie looked at him in a confused manner.

"He seems familiar... have I met him?"

"No," Tintin said slowly. "I very much doubt it, you certainly haven't since I've known you. It would be very unlikely for you to have done before either, he is away a lot."

"So I could have met him on one of his trips?"

Tintin laughed. "He's an astronaut, so unless you think you might have also been into space I'd guess not."

Annie was frowning. "No, that doesn't seem right at all. He must just resemble someone I knew, perhaps."

They continued their progress towards the booth, slowed by the crowds. Annie was looking around the room, admiring the decorations. "It seems very popular," she commented when looking at the dancefloor, before suddenly lurching to a stop and raising a hand to her head.

"Are you ok?" Tintin asked with concern, Annie was now looking very pale.

"I don't know..." she murmured, clutching at her head. "I just got a splitting headache." She looked up again at the dancefloor, there had been something there that triggered a flashback – and found herself looking straight at a tall man in the middle of the dancers. Immediately the pain shot through her head again and she gasped.

"You must go and lie down," Tintin instructed firmly, very concerned about her friend's health.

"I'll be fine," Annie insisted. "It's your party!"

"We're spending a few days together," Tintin replied reasonably. "Go and rest now, the travelling and all the delays must have caused you to become overtired. I'll go and let the others know and then come and check on you."

"Thank you," Annie replied gratefully and started walking unsteadily out of the ballroom. Tintin headed back to the table alone. She had nearly reached it when Scott appeared out of the sea of dancers, knocking into her elbow as he strode out of the room. He waved a hand in apology but didn't slow down on his way. Tintin stared after him for a moment, it was really very unusual behaviour.

Tintin reached the booth to see Penelope returning to the table.

"What happened to Scott?" Tintin asked. The aristocrat looked confused and more than a bit irritated.

"I don't really know, one moment we were dancing and then next he disappeared."

Gordon snapped his fingers. "I bet it was those whelks he ate earlier! I told him not to eat dodgy looking seafood from a street vendor."

"Oh dear," Tintin gazed out of the ballroom in concern. "That makes two then, Annie isn't feeling very well and has returned to her room."

"Oh dear, is she quite well?" Penelope asked with concern.

"I don't know," Tintin admitted honestly. "I think it may be something related to her accident."

"Accident?" Virgil asked curiously.

"I forgot you didn't know. Annie had a serious accident a couple of years ago that caused her to be in a coma for a while, I gather she had a bad head injury. She still suffers from the amnesia."

"Poor girl," Gordon winced, remembering his own life-changing accident at sea.

"Amnesia?" John asked curiously.

"Yes," Tintin replied. "She has never remembered who she really is, all she knows is that she washed up on the Californian coast with severe injuries, most likely from a boating accident. She doesn't even know if Annie is her real name. That's why she works at Sunbeam, Dr Clifford treated her and now it's the only place she has a home."

Virgil whistled. "Wow, that's quite something. Does she have no family?"

"Not that she knows," Tintin shook her head.

John had a pensive look on his face. "When was this accident?"

Tintin frowned. "I'm not really sure. I think a couple of years ago now."

"Interesting," John murmured before standing. "I'd better go and check up on Scott, or at least make sure he made it to his room."

Penelope looked fairly green. "Probably for the best. You'll be back down after?"

"Of course," John smiled, thought his expression showed that his thoughts were elsewhere.

Once he was gone Tintin rose as well. "I promised Annie I would go and see that she was ok," she explained to Brains. "I'll be back down in a bit." He nodded and squeezed her hand.

The hotel lobby was very quiet with only a couple of people sat sipping drinks in the chairs, a complete contrast to the heaving ballroom. She called for the elevator and took it to her floor.

Exiting the elevator she found Scott standing in the hallway. "Are you ok, Scott?" she asked him with confusion. He did look pale, maybe Gordon was right about the whelks after all. But why he was on her floor she had no idea.

Scott jumped and spun around to face her. "Tintin!" He exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"This is my floor," she informed him. "I could ask you the same question."

"I thought I saw someone I knew," he said distractedly, still looking around. "But I guess I was wrong."

"Oh so that's why you left so suddenly," Tintin exclaimed. "The others thought it was something you'd eaten. John went to check up on you, you should probably let him know you are ok."

Scott looked at her then. "I will do Tintin, thank you. Sorry about this." He disappeared back towards the elevators. Tintin watched him, still confused, before turning to her own suite.

She knocked tentatively on Annie's door before opening it softly. Annie had changed into comfortable pyjamas and was sat on the edge of her bed, cradling a glass of water.

"I'm so sorry about this Tintin," she started, but Tintin waved her apology off.

"It's not your fault at all." She replied firmly. "How are you feeling?"

"I think...better now. I don't know what came over me before, I saw something and then I had this flash of something. It was incredibly disorientating and my head hurt."

"If you are remembering more, it's a good thing isn't it?" Tintin asked.

"I don't know," Annie said slowly. "Mike – that's Dr Clifford – seems to think it's a sign that my brain is healing. I've been getting more and more flashbacks recently. But I'm scared, Tintin."

Tintin sat on the bed next to her and held her free hand. "Why scared?"

"It's been over two years now since I woke up at Sunbeam," Annie started. "It was horrible at first, but then I became resigned to it. Now, I like who I am and where I am. I have a good job, I have great friends," she squeezed Tintin's hand, "and I have a good life. What happens if I do remember? I only get flashes now, occasional feelings." Such as the crippling pang of some unnamed emotion that hit her earlier, when her eyes connected with those of one of the dancers on the ballroom floor.

She turned to face Tintin on the bed. "I'm scared of finding out who I really am."

"But Annie, don't you want to remember?"

"What if I don't like the person I was? If the life I led was dangerous, boring or worse? Some of the flashes I get frighten me, Tintin. I had one the other day where I seemed to remember being terrified in dark caves and one where I was fighting with people watching me. I'm scared that I'll find out something horrible, twisted. Once I know I'll never be able to un-know. Ignorance is bliss."

"But what if it isn't, Annie?" Tintin took both her hands gently. "What if the memories aren't all bad? We all have good and bad things happen to us, it shapes who we are."

"I like who I am now! What if my memories change me, make me someone new?"

"Then you'll have the memory of now to help you remember who you were," Tintin replied calmly. "What if there is family out there mourning you? Wouldn't you want to remember?"

"I guess I do. But there may well not be, I may truly be alone." A tear tracked down Annie's cheek.

"No." Tintin stated firmly, brushing the tear away gently. "You are definitely not alone. You have me and I'm pretty sure you have at least half the Tracys ready to help you out if you need it. You'll have the full set as soon as they actually get to meet you. We wouldn't abandon you just because we might not like something in your past. You are not your past."

"Thank you Tintin," Annie said weakly, looking at her hands. "That means a lot to me."

Tintin wrapped her arm around her friend's shoulders and hugged her close. They stayed like that for a while, before Annie took a deep breath and straightened up.

"You should go back to your party," she informed Tintin. "I'm ok now, but Brains will be worried about you."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely, have fun Tintin. Please don't worry about me, I'm just going to take some painkillers and go to sleep."

Tintin nodded and left her friend, padding quietly back out of the suite.

Downstairs, the music had become livelier. After a quick enquiry after Annie, where Tintin replied that she was now ok but sleeping, the group started to take to the dancefloor. Tintin firmly put her friend from her mind as instructed and went back to enjoying herself. John returned soon after, informing them that Scott wasn't feeling great but that they would see him in the morning.

Tintin decided, for once, not to spend too much time or energy worrying about the various mini dramas going on around her. She instead threw herself into her party, dancing the night away and promising herself that she would worry tomorrow instead.


	17. Tin-Tin’s Birthday Part 4 - Scott

Scott was standing in a corridor. He wasn't even sure which, he'd had to press all the buttons on the elevator and this was the one where he thought he had seen movement. But now there was no one to see, he didn't know whether he should try knocking on the doors randomly or give up.

Except, he couldn't just give up. He had to find out if what he saw was real or a figment of his imagination.

The day had been going so well. A light breakfast on the pretty veranda attached to the hotel, overlooking the harbour. Then a walk around the old part of the city following the freedom trail - and hadn't that been fun! Following the red tiles embedded into the roads and learning all about American history. He'd even managed to find some incredible street food on the way around.

It had been great hanging out with Tintin, Brains and John. It wasn't that often that John could be pried away from his studies but today they'd had a good chance to catch up. Tintin had regaled them with stories of her time in Boston, reminiscing about certain places she'd visited with friends and colleagues from MIT.

When they'd returned to the hotel he'd popped out to see Virgil, but his middle brother was deep in concentration. Scott knew better than to ask Virgil to show him his progress, Virgil never showed anybody unfinished pieces and often not the finished versions either. He did make sure that Virgil had something to eat and drink before leaving him to it, it wasn't unheard of for Virgil to forget the basics when he was caught up in painting.

He'd then gone up to his room before getting dressed up and going back downstairs to decorate the veranda. John and Gordon had joined him while Alan and Virgil collected Tintin's watch from the jewellers they had dropped the watch face at the day before. Brains had worked the technology brilliantly for the face, but nobody on the Island had the skills to create an elegant strap suitable to Tintin's petite physique.

Tintin's expression when she saw their work made all the effort worthwhile. The reception on the veranda had been lovely, at least until he and John were packed off to the bar with a long list of drinks - some of which he were convinced his younger brothers may have made up. To say that the bartender wasn't pleased would be an understatement, but John tipped him well.

The ballroom was fun and Scott had been having a great time - up until the point where Penelope had all but dragged him into the middle of the dance floor. He had been caught off guard when she asked him to dance and hadn't been able to think up an excuse that wouldn't have been rude. It had started off just fine, a nice energetic song that he had easily been able to dance with her too without getting too close. But then it had changed to a slower song and Penelope had pulled him far closer than he was comfortable with.

His embarrassment was so acute that he instead stared out across the crowds, trying desperately not to make eye contact.

And that was when he saw her.

Her hair was cut differently and she was wearing a dress that he wouldn't have said she would choose, but there was no mistaking her.

Angel, whom he thought dead - whose absence left a hole that nothing had been able to fill - was standing in the same ballroom in Boston that he was. He couldn't believe what his eyes were telling him. He hadn't been able to see who she was talking to, though it was apparent that she was talking to someone. The crowds shifted again and he lost sight of her, scanning desperately for a further glimpse.

It must have been a mistake, someone who looked like her. It couldn't have been Angel. It simply wasn't possible.

"Scott, are you ok?" He felt a slight tug on his arm and actually looked down at his dance partner. Penelope was looking up at him in concern.

"I'm sorry Penelope, I thought I saw..." he had tailed off, still looking through the dancers for the figure he had seen. He had almost given up hope and convinced himself that he had just imagined it. But then the crowds parted and a jolt shot through him as he realised she was looking directly at him.

The room fell away, all that remained was the eyes he caught across the ballroom. The moment hung, the second stretching out forever, as his gaze was caught by those eyes. But then a dancer swung back into the way and the spell was broken.

"Excuse me," he muttered to Penelope, no longer caring about manners or propriety or anything else. All he knew was that he had to get to that woman, find out if it was truly Angel or if he'd made a terrible mistake.

It took him far too long to escape from the crush of dancers in the ballroom and she was out of sight by the time he was free. He knocked into Tintin in his haste, waving a quick apology but not prepared to waste any more time talking to her. Not right now.

By the time he reached the hotel lobby she was nowhere in sight, but he asked at the desk if they'd seen a brunette in a black dress go by and they directed him to the elevator. Not knowing what floor, Scott punched all the numbers and each time the elevator stopped he checked the hallway for any sign of her before moving onto the next.

Until he saw what he thought was a flash of a dress reflected in a bronze panel in a hallway. He sprinted out of the elevator but couldn't see anyone, couldn't hear the tell-tale click of a locking door.

And that led to him standing here now, debating whether or not to rouse all the inhabitants of this floor just to find out if a shadow he had followed was in fact the woman he had lost.

Now that he was standing here, his certainty faded. It had been very dark in the ballroom, it would have been easy to make a mistake. Probably just someone with similar features. But it was the eyes that had him convinced, the gaze he had caught across the room.

He was still standing in indecision a few minutes later, when a voice called from behind him. "Are you ok, Scott?"

He spun in surprise, breathing deeply when he saw Tintin standing there. For a moment he had hoped it was Angel. "Tintin! What are you doing here?"

Tintin was looking at him curiously, he tried not to react. She couldn't know the emotions that had played out within him over the last few minutes. "This is my floor. I could ask you the same question."

Scott looked around, still hoping for a glimpse of the ghost he had followed. "I thought I saw someone I knew, but I guess I was wrong."

"Oh so that's why you left so suddenly," Tintin exclaimed, a look of dawning understanding on her face. "The others thought it was something you'd eaten. John went to check up on you, you should probably let him know you are ok."

Scott focussed on the small brunette in front of him. "I will do Tintin, thank you. Sorry about this." He turned and strode back to the elevator, relieved when it was still available from Tintin's arrival. Letting the door close behind him, he puffed his cheeks out and exhaled. Being caught standing randomly in a corridor searching for someone who didn't exist was not on his agenda for the night.

Remembering Tintin's words, Scott thought he should probably go and catch his brother if John was indeed looking for him. He hit the button for his floor and the elevator made the short journey to the level below. When the doors opened, he was confronted by his closest brother in the corridor.

"There you are!" John called. "I was looking for you. Where did you get off to?"

"Long story," Scott muttered, moving past John and over to the door of his room. "And one I'd rather not discuss here. Quick drink?"

John raised an eyebrow. "You know there is plenty of champagne left downstairs?" But he followed his brother into his room anyway.

Scott went over to the minibar and pulled out a small bottle of whisky. He waved a second at John, who accepted with a request for ice. Scott duly provided the drink for his brother then tipped the bottle back neat.

"Whoa, what's got into you? Are you ok?" John took in his brother's wild stare and pale face. In the corridor it had been difficult to see, but Scott had turned the lights on in his room and it was clear that his brother was extremely rattled.

"I guess. Well, no. No I'm not. I'm seeing ghosts, John."

It was to John's credit that he said nothing, simply sat on the sofa and gestured for his brother to continue. Scott didn't sit, he paced across the room.

"I thought I saw her John. Angel. I was on the dance floor and I looked up and there she was. But it was busy and crowded and now I'm doubting myself." Scott turned at looked at his closest brother. "I know it sounds crazy, I know she died that night, but I'm so certain I saw her! I would bet my life on it. No, I would bet Thunderbird 1."

Scott expected many reactions to this statement. He expected John to look worried, concerned for his sanity. He expected John to laugh, tell him he was imagining things. But instead John simply sat and looked at his drink, swirling it around before knocking back the contents quickly.

John then turned back to his older brother and looked him straight in the eye. No hint of deception lay in his blue gaze as he slowly and clearly said "I think you may well have done."

Scott sat heavily on one of the small chairs. The one thing he hadn't expected was for John to agree with him. It caused his world to tilt, suddenly faced with the wild hope that maybe, just maybe it wasn't a dream. "You...you saw her too?"

John shook his head. "No."

"Then...but what?"

"I did have a very interesting talk with Tintin. You've never met Annie, have you?"

"No," now Scott was really confused. "What has Annie got to do with it? Are you saying Annie is Angel? But, I don't understand. If she knew Tintin the whole time then why wouldn't she come to find me?"

John could tell Scott was running through the whole gauntlet of emotions this evening. Now he looked devastated, running one hand through his hair. John quickly explained to try to alleviate his brother's pain. "Annie was involved in a bad accident, they pulled her from the Pacific off the coast of California about two years ago with severe injuries." John could see the dawning understanding on Scott's face but he hadn't yet gotten to the most important fact so he ploughed on. "She has amnesia Scott, she doesn't even know if Annie is her real name. She doesn't remember anything from her life before the accident. Even if she was Angel, she wouldn't know to come and find you because she doesn't remember you."

Scott looked almost overwhelmed. "But what now? She's staying in Tintin's room, isn't she?" He made to get up but John pushed him back down into his chair.

"Scott, it's late and she isn't feeling very well. You can't just burst in on her like this! Firstly, you need to calm down."

"John, I have to." Scott looked at John, unshed tears swimming in his eyes. "If she's alive... I have to go and see her." His hands were shaking with barely repressed emotion.

"Waiting until the morning won't make any difference now," John soothed. He had never seen his brother as emotional as this, except for that one night in California. "She isn't going anywhere, but if you go barrelling into her room in the middle of the night you are going to scare her."

"She doesn't remember me," Scott said softly, the meaning of that now beginning to sink in after the euphoria of realising she was probably alive. "She won't remember...anything about what we shared, what we meant... what am I going to do?"

"Show her again," John stated simply. "Somehow you got her to fall for you before, you can certainly do it again. Just woo her whatever way you did the first time."

Scott shook his head. "She wasn't easy to get close to John, I wouldn't know where to start." He now looked heartbroken all over again, the realisation dawning that the woman he lost was seemingly so close but still so far.

John stood, depositing his glass on the top of the desk. He squeezed Scott's shoulder. "You don't have to start now. Get some sleep, I'll make an excuse for you downstairs. Tomorrow, you'll be able to talk to her, find out for sure if she is Angel or if it all just a horrible coincidence."

Scott nodded slowly. "Thanks Johnny."

John left Scott behind in his room, the elder not even looking up to wave goodbye. John's last image before the door shut behind him was of Scott sitting with his head in his hands.

Scott stayed there for a long time, before rousing himself and moving instead onto his balcony. He had an incredible view of the harbour lit up at night but he didn't see any of it. His mind was racing, torn between hope and despair. The idea that somewhere, just one floor away, Angel might be sleeping. Living. Breathing. It didn't matter that she didn't remember, he would give his right arm just to hold her one more time, to feel her soft skin underneath his fingers and to drown in her presence.

But at the same time, it did matter. It mattered a lot. She wouldn't know anything about him, about what they shared together. What if she didn't like him? Or worse, chose one of his brothers over him? He had heard how Virgil had spoken about Annie. She may want nothing to do with him and he would have to watch while she lived a life completely separate from him. But at least she was living. Scott would do anything to ensure her happiness, even if it meant sacrificing his own.

Eventually he slipped into bed, no resolution to his thoughts but only more confusion. He tossed and turned for a long time before finally succumbing to a fitful sleep, dreams of brown hair, golden eyes and a teasing smile filling his mind.


	18. Cacophony

Scott woke suddenly, disorientated. He was completely tangled up in the bedding and half lying on the floor of his room. He righted himself and climbed back into bed, where he tried to remember where he was.

It all came rushing back. Boston, the party, Tintin, Annie, _Angel_.

No sooner had he remembered the events of yesterday than the persistent noise started to filter in. The noise that had roused him from a deep sleep at six in the morning. The irritating, persistent beeping noise that could only mean one thing.

He dived for his watch, finding it at the bottom of the pile of clothes he had discarded the night before. "Come in," he responded sleepily.

"Ah Scott, I'm glad I've managed to get hold of you," his father was sat at his desk, nursing a coffee. It must have been the middle of the night at the Island, it was very dark and his father looked tired. There was also a loud noise in the background that sounded as though it was an alert for a rescue. "Sorry for waking you son, but I need you to rouse John and maybe some more of your brothers - I need John back here ASAP as we have an issue with the monitor on Thunderbird 5. I'm really hoping one of you is in a fit state to bring him back in Thunderbird 1."

"F.A.B., father. Wake up John, get to Thunderbird 1, fly home." Scott stopped and thought about the night before and the alcohol limits from his air force training. "I really didn't drink much, I would be fine to fly."

"Excellent," Jeff breathed a sigh of relief. "The monitor has been too sensitive and been on constant alert – none of us have been able to get a wink of sleep and we have no idea if we're missing something important. We need John or Brains to go up and fix it, no one else knows enough about it. Given the circumstances, I'd rather not disturb Brains."

Scott grimaced at the thought of trying to disturb Brains and Tintin the morning after her birthday. "Sensible."

"I thought so. Thanks son, let me know your ETA when you get going. John knows where he's left the Thunderbirds."

"F.A.B., father." Scott hung up and started to dress. He was pulling on his shirt when the full implications of the conversation hit him. He was going back to the Island. He was going back to the Island extremely early in the morning, which meant that he wouldn't be able to see Annie. He sank on his bed, despair washing over him. He had to know. How could he rest not knowing if Angel was alive?

Not having much choice, he pulled on his shoes and stuffed his belongings in a bag. That done, he went into the corridor and started banging on John's door.

It was a few minutes before John emerged, rubbing his eyes and with his hair stuck in all directions wearing only a pair of pyjama bottoms. He had obviously been deeply asleep, if it had been any other morning Scott would have felt incredibly apologetic to be waking him up at this hour but today he was too preoccupied. Instead Scott swept by his brother into the room, leaving John to shut the door behind them.

"I know I said to wait until morning, but this is still too early to wake her up, Scott."

Scott didn't answer as he rummaged through John's belongings. "Ah ha!" He crowed triumphantly, holding up John's watch. It was no longer beeping but it was still flashing, indicating a missed message.

"A call from home?" Now John was alert. "What's up?"

"Something to do with the remote monitoring system, they need you back at home to sort it out, apparently only you or Brains can."

John rubbed his hand down his face. He looked pretty rough. "And there is no way anyone is prising Brains away from Tintin right now. But how am I going to get home? I'm in no state to fly."

Scott looked grim. "I can tell. What state was Alan in last night?"

John shook his head. "Worse than me, and I've had far too much to drink. It got fairly messy once the ladies and Brains disappeared. Last time I saw Alan he was showing off some of his dances moves to a crowd."

Scott winced. "Well that settles it, Alan never dances unless he's already off his face. I guess I'll be your pilot for today, you can focus on sobering up on the flight."

"But Scott!"

"I know," the oldest brother's voice was curt. "There is no helping it, International Rescue has to come first."

"I'm sorry," John said sincerely, starting to pack his bags. "I really am."

Scott was incredibly disappointed but pushed it to the back of his mind. "Go and get dressed, I'll pack the rest. Dad said you'd know where my Thunderbird is parked?"

"Sure do," John replied, disappearing into the bedroom although leaving the door open so he could still talk. "It's at a farm just outside the city, I think rented by one of the agents in the network. Won't take us too long to get there at this hour."

"Great, we'll have to apologise to Tintin later." John emerged looking slightly more alive just in time for Scott to finish putting his possessions in a bag.

The brothers left the hotel quietly, catching a taxi and getting to the small farm easily. Soon Thunderbird 1 was taking to the skies, charting a course back to Tracy Island. Any other day Scott would have rejoiced to be back in his 'bird again, but today he was leaving a small part of himself in the hotel in Boston.

Once Scott had landed, the brothers immediately went up to the lounge where their father was waiting. It was soon clear why they had been called back - the lounge was a cacophony of noise with every alert going off all at the same time. Scott winced, whilst he didn't have a hangover he hadn't got much sleep and it wasn't particularly fun to sit through.

Along with Jeff both Grandma and Kyrano were in the lounge. Grandma was wearing some form of giant ear muffs while Kyrano looked incredibly stressed. They all looked very tired.

"How long has this been going on for?" Asked Scott, having to raise his voice to be heard.

"Since midday yesterday," Came the reply, causing both brothers to wince in sympathy. It was now the early hours of the next day on the Island and by the looks of it nobody had been able to sleep at all. Their father had installed alarms in every room and even all the outdoor spaces so there would be no escaping the noise.

"I need you two to take Thunderbird 3 up to the space station to see what's going on," Jeff informed them. "John, if you don't mind staying up there until your brother gets back it would be appreciated."

"Sure thing, father."

"Does that mean I'm coming back alone?" Scott asked. It was possible to pilot Thunderbird 3 alone, both he and Alan had in the past, but it certainly wasn't standard procedure.

"No, I'll be coming along with you," Jeff informed them. Both sons looked surprised, they couldn't remember the last time their father had been into space. At their expressions, Jeff elaborated. "While it is useful having me here at base, if I take a more active role occasionally it frees you all up a little bit more. I've realised recently how few breaks you all have, with Tintin here more and if I take part occasionally then it should help us all out a bit."

"Well then," John pulled a face, the sound of the alarms beginning to hurt his ears. "Shall we get going? I have enough stuff on Thunderbird 5 to last me a week or two."

"There are some provisions in that bag," Grandma informed him, pointing at a coolbag slung next to the sofa. "That will keep you going for a few days."

"Thanks Grandma," John gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before settling on the sofa. Jeff took the other end and Scott ended up sitting between them. With a quick wave they dropped below the lounge, passed by the duplicate sofa that quickly took its place.

As they passed through the long tunnel that led to Thunderbird 3's launch bay, Scott told his father that he'd left a message with reception to be passed onto the others. "Nothing that could give us away, just that John had been requested to go home for a family issue and I was the only one ok to drive him."

"Well I'm relieved you were," Jeff stated, rubbing his head. The alarm was still ringing loudly throughout the tunnel. Scott already was developing a massive headache, he didn't quite know how his father had coped for over sixteen hours.

The quiet when they finally ascended into Thunderbird 3 was blissful. Jeff breathed a sigh of relief.

"Are you sure you didn't want to come just to escape the noise?" John asked, trademark eyebrow quirk in place.

"It may have been a factor," their father admitted. "But I really should keep my eye in more."

"Do you want to co-pilot?" Asked Scott. "I can sit in the lounge."

"No it's ok, you co-pilot for the journey out and I will for the way back." Jeff waved off his boys, who nodded and entered the elevator that took them to the front of rocket. He settled himself into one of the chairs, strapping in tight. Soon he heard John's voice over the radio.

"Are we clear for take-off?"

Kyrano replied, the sound of the alarm still blaring in the background. "Affirmative, Master John."

"F.A.B. Kyrano."

There was a roar followed by a surge as the rocket took off. Jeff hung on tight - he hadn't been to space for years. A part of him was thrilled by this opportunity. He really should get more involved in rescues instead of having to rely on his boys every time.

In the cockpit John and Scott were monitoring the rocket controls. As soon as the launch was finished John checked in with his father and disconnected the comms.

"Are you OK?" He asked his brother.

Scott sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "No," he admitted honestly. "But this is a rescue, even if just of the sanity of everyone in the Island. I have to put everything else aside."

John looked at him critically. "You've come a long way since two years ago."

"I think I'd almost come to terms with it," Scott fiddled with a couple of monitors. "I'd moved on, almost. Or at least found peace. This is... just incredible. You said last night it was a coincidence, but it's also such a coincidence for one of Tintin's friends to just happen to be the woman I love with amnesia. I can't help but think we must be wrong."

John noted the use of the present verb in that sentence, Scott may say he had moved on but his actions suggested otherwise.

"Why don't you offer to go and pick Tintin up after her trip?" John suggested. "Take over the jet, offer to take her and Annie out for lunch. Then you'll know for certain."

"I'll think about it," Scott promised. In reality, he was scared. The cold light of the morning had begun to sink in and now he wasn't more scared about meeting Annie and finding out she wasn't Angel after all - or finding out that she was but didn't know him. He almost didn't think he could bear that.

John seemed to understand at least some of what was running through his mind. "But at least you'd know for sure? Even if she doesn't remember you, she will. I saw what you were like after she fell - if she felt anywhere near the same for you as you did for her a part of her will remember you. You may even be able to help her remember the rest."

"That feels selfish. She didn't have an easy life, John. If she is happy as Annie, then shouldn't I just let her be?"

"I think you won't know unless you talk to her, which means meeting her. Go and pick up Tintin, meet Annie, see how you feel then."

Scott nodded. "We're not far off Thunderbird 5 now. Want to check up on dad?"

"Sure," John turned him comms back on. "Enjoying the ride back there?"

"It's been too long since I was last up here." Their father sounded regretful. "I've relied on you boys alone too much. Ah well, we must be getting close now?"

"We're about three minutes out," replied John, switching the Thunderbird to manual for the docking procedure. "Time to buckle up."

"F.A.B." Came the response. With a skill that belied how difficult the procedure was, borne from years of practice, John deftly aligned Thunderbird 3 with the docking bay on Thunderbird 5. With a gentle hiss the clamps activated and the airlock pressurised.

"And we're here," he announced across the comms. "Let's go see what's been going on."

Scott was surprised to see that his father had dug out one of his old flight suits to wear. It wasn't quite up to the standard of the International Rescue uniform, but it was essentially an early prototype and would do the job. The trio made their way into the airlock, John leading as he went to find out what had happened to his space station.

Inside Thunderbird 5, Scott was surprised to see a large machine set up near to the audio feeds. Rationally, he knew that John and Brains had been cooking up a remote monitoring system but seeing it in place was something else. However, it didn't look happy - several cogs were whirring and screeching. Scott could tell from John's expression that it wasn't doing what it was supposed to do. The blond dove straight in, opening up a control panel and pressing several buttons in quick succession.

Scott and his father stood and watched while John was working. Well, Scott watched anyway. Jeff was busy walking around the space station, poking his nose in to all the small cubby holes. Scott didn't think he could recall a time when his father had been up to the Thunderbird 5, so it was likely he hadn't seen it since it had been in pieces on the ground.

Eventually John straightened up. "I think I know what this issue is," he stated. "I'll need to wait until Brains comes back to confirm, but essentially the calibration is off. It was doing an okay job at filtering the reports but then it looked into too many, ones that it shouldn't have decided were worth noticing. It carried on working for some time but then became overwhelmed and it started alerting base for every single report it detected. Which is why all the alarms went - and you wouldn't have been able to silence them because as soon as you ignore one report another ten take its place."

John pursed his lips, thinking hard. "The good news is, it hasn't actually failed. I need to hard reset and adjust the calibration manually. I think if I kept it running alongside me being up here then we can test and adjust until we get it right. The bad news is, hard resetting this thing is going to take some work."

"What do you need us to do, son?"

"Right," John turned to them both. "Scott, I need you to hold the auxiliary power unit, we'll need to disconnect and then patch it back in to reboot. Dad, I need you to help me to uncouple the solid state drive so that the hydronics can be reset."

"Sure," Scott moved into position and took hold of the unit John was indicating. With a little elbow grease he managed to unscrew the clamps that held it into place. Meanwhile, he could see his father assisting John by pulling out cables from within the unit and laying them out. John himself was up to his elbows inside the structure with a spanner, doing something although Scott had no clue what it was.

It took significantly longer and far more curses than it should have done to put the monitoring system to rights. Scott suspected that lack of sleep was a major factor for all three of them - Jeff because alarms had been blaring non-stop within the villa, John as he'd been partying hard and Scott because he'd had far too much on his mind.

Eventually John was satisfied and he slammed his hand onto a button. Immediately all the lights stopped flashing, indicating that the alarms were no longer being triggered. Jeff blew a sigh of relief. "Thanks sons, I'm sorry to have to call you back but we couldn't have coped with that going on for any longer."

"It's no problem, father." John smiled. "Now, I need to trawl through this list of reports and see if there are any that actually require International Rescue support, and I suspect you need some sleep. Have a safe flight."

"Thanks John, get in touch if you need us to send a Thunderbird out."

Scott led his father through the airlock and back into Thunderbird 3. This time, Jeff took the co-pilot position while Scott took the primary seat. "Decoupling in five, four, three, two, one. Bye John, speak soon."

"F.A.B. Thunderbird 3, get home safely."

There wasn't much talk on the way home. Scott was beginning to fret again while Jeff was barely staying awake. Scott was relieved when they touched down, he felt the need to go and burn off some energy somehow.

As the couch returned to the lounge, Scott could see his Grandma asleep in her chair, a pile of fabric laying in front of her. He smiled as he stood, going over to wake her gently.

"Wake up Grandma, you'll hurt your back if you sleep like this."

"Sleep?" Grandma's eyes shot open. "Who said I was asleep, young man? Just resting my eyes is all. Although, now you mention it, I may just go and lie down for a bit."

"Where did Kyrano go, mother?"

"Oh he said something about resting once the alarms finished ringing. But I wanted to wait for you to get back safely."

"Well we're back now, Grandma."

"That's true enough. I'll just take this dress down to Tintin's room," Grandma announced, swaying as she stood up. Scott quickly caught her elbow and steadied her.

"I think you should go to bed," he told her. "You too dad, John will call if there are any emergencies."

"But I promised Tintin that I'd finish this dress!" Grandma protested. "It will be all crumpled if it's left out here."

"I'll take it down and put it on her bed," Scott promised. "She won't mind me going in quickly. Come on." He helped his Grandma to the elevator, stepping in with her holding the dress. He made sure that Grandma was securely escorted to her own room before popping back to Tintin's.

Scott noted that Tintin's room was very elegant and tidy as he stepped into it. He'd never really been in here, personal rooms were considered off limits unless specifically invited. He carefully laid the dress out on the bed as per Grandma's instructions and turned to leave when something caught his eye.

Around Tintin's small dressing table there were a range of photographs stuck into the edge of the mirror. Some of the family, some of her with her father, many of Brains. But there was one in particular that Scott plucked out of the mirror and held up for a closer look. It was a photo of three girls, each wearing giant sunglasses, lounging up against a building. Tintin was in the background and Penelope in the middle. But neither of these women, lovely as they were, held Scott's attention. His eyes were focussed on the girl in the foreground, half her face hidden but that didn't matter, he would recognise those features anywhere. After all, how many times had he seen her wearing a mask across the top half of her face? A quick scan of the words scrawled on the back told him everything he needed to know.

He was holding in his hand incontrovertible proof that Annie, Tintin's friend from California, was none other than Angelique Dubois. His Angel.


	19. The Best Laid Plans...

Scott was in the pool. Swimming, turning, swimming, turning. Trying to keep his mind occupied, unable to disturb John whilst he was trying to sort out the mess on the space station to talk about his recent discovery. Luckily everyone else on the Island was asleep after their disturbed night and couldn't be witness to his agitation. Swim, turn, repeat.

Annie was Angel. Angel was alive. Angel was Annie. Thoughts that kept swirling around his mind. She didn't remember. She didn't know who he was. But she was Angel. His Angel. Swim, turn, repeat.

Scott lost track of the amount of time he spent in the water, trying desperately to make sense of his thoughts. It was difficult. His first impulse on finding the photo had been to launch Thunderbird 1 and fly straight back to Boston. Even though John had told him last night about Annie's amnesia, despite being sure he had seen Angel at the ball, he had still been convinced that it would all turn out to be a mistake. That it would simply be too good to be true, that he was grasping at straws because there was a part of him that would never accept that Angel was dead. But then. Then he had seen the photo, seen the features that had only existed in his memory, and he had known.

He had taken the photo. If Tintin ever asked, he would plead ignorance. But he didn't have a single photo of Angel, nothing but his memories and the metal claw he kept around his neck even now. The single photo, even with her mostly obscured, was now one of his most precious possessions. He'd taken it on an impulse, scurrying back up to his room as though someone would jump out and accuse him at any moment, then just sat and stared at it. He'd lost track of time as he'd gently rubbed his finger over her face, committing every single curve to memory all over again.

Then he'd sought out the pool, trying to make sense of his jumbled thoughts. He'd actually had an impulse to go running instead but the Island wasn't big enough. He needed the open moorland around Angel's home where it was just him and land and sky.

Angel's home. The home she would be able to return to. Maybe. If she remembered. Could he help her remember? Should he? He knew her life was hard and unfair, was it selfish for him to want her to remember it, remember him? No answers were coming in the pool. Swim, turn, repeat.

He was suddenly aware that he wasn't alone in the pool - a tanned body streaked past him creating turbulence and splash. Spluttering, he surfaced. Not easy to breathe when water was being kicked all over you.

A bobbing ginger head indicated the culprit. "You've been in here a while," Gordon stated. "Come on, get out and get a drink. You'll be dehydrated."

Scott was about to round on his brother for treating him like a child when he realised Virgil and Alan were stood watching from the edge of the pool, expressions of concern on their faces. Virgil had a tray of drinks on the side table next to him. Scott realised that he was actually really thirsty and hungry too. He swam over to the edge of the pool, hoisting himself out with considerable difficulty. His arms and legs felt like jelly. Gordon swam up next to him and steadied him.

Scott sat for a moment on the edge, gratefully taking a bottle of water from Virgil, while he waited for his muscles to regain some strength so he could stand up without wobbling. "You're back already? You made good time." He stated, looking at his brothers. "I thought the plan was to head back home after lunch?"

"Scott, we did." Virgil's concern deepened. "How long have you been in the pool?"

"I don't know. What time is it?"

"Nearly dinner time."

"Dinner?" Scott was shocked. He'd entered the pool before lunch. No wonder he was starving.

"We've sat and watched you for an hour at least," Gordon confirmed. "We weren't sure you'd ever stop, so I thought I'd better get in."

Scott looked down at his wrinkled hands. "I had no idea. I was just thinking."

"That's some thinking time," Virgil stated. "And here we thought it was Gordon that would be the one to try to drown himself in thought."

"Well, thanks guys."

"So what were you thinking about that deeply?" Asked Alan, sitting down next to his brother. "Must be something important."

"Not really," Scott lied. "I was just thinking about the last couple of days, there has been a lot going on."

"Are you feeling better today?" Virgil asked, sitting on Scott's other side. "John said you weren't feeling great last night - something about seafood?"

"Something like that," Scott muttered. "Yeah, I'm ok now. Just a bit sorry to have missed out on the party."

"You sure did miss out," Alan chirped, splashing Gordon with his legs. "We had a swell time, lots of dancing. There were some lovely girls there."

"There were some girls there," Virgil corrected. "I noticed you and Gordon making the most of that. But the only truly lovely girls were those we went with."

"And Annie," Gordon added. "Even if she wasn't feeling well either. She looked better this morning though."

"Oh?" Scott asked, trying not to appear too eager as he hung on every word uttered about Annie. "She was at breakfast?"

"Yeah, it's a shame you and John had to head back so early," Alan noted. "You missed out on breakfast too. Still, dad filled us in and it did sound as though you were needed here. I'm sure grateful you didn't wake me up to fly your bird home."

"Well one of the disadvantages of not feeling great last night was that I barely drank anything." Scott pulled a face. "I thought I was probably the only one fit to fly this morning."

"You could be right about that," Virgil muttered. "I saw how much these two were putting away last night." He swept his gaze from Alan to Gordon, both of whom looked unrepentant.

"Well, if you hadn't been so grumpy all evening you would have too," Alan countered. "Anyway, we all had breakfast this morning and Annie was able to join us at last. She said she felt a lot better, some form of bad headache last night. She and Tintin went off earlier to go on holiday for a bit."

Gordon leaned against the edge of the pool, his eyes dreamy. "She sure is gorgeous," he sighed. "Shame Tintin has banned us from asking her out." Scott felt a swell of anger, quickly repressed. It wasn't Gordon's fault, he didn't know about the long and complicated history between them. Scott was suddenly very glad of Tintin's firm stance towards the brothers.

"You hardly minded last night." Virgil pointed out sardonically. "What was her name again?"

"Oh would you look at the time!" Gordon deflected. "Grandma will be wanting us in for dinner. Come on!" The aquanaut pulled himself out of the water with a heave, grabbing a towel to get dry. Alan and Virgil scrambled up to follow suit. Scott found that he'd dried in the sun while talking to his brothers, but still wasn't sure his tired legs would be able to hold his weight.

"Need a hand?" Virgil offered, reaching back down. Scott accepted gratefully, allowing his brother to take most of the strain as he hauled himself up. "So what's really got you in such a tiz that you tried to do a Gordon?"

"Nothing, really."

"Nothing, hmm? That wouldn't be a code name for Angel, would it?" Scott stumbled at the words, leading to Virgil having to reach out and catch him. "I'll take that as a yes then."

"No! I mean, what?"

"Articulate, Scott." Virgil turned to his brother. "I didn't actually buy the story about dodgy whelks. You hardly look like someone who has food poisoning last night. You do look like someone with girl troubles though. Ever going to tell us about it?"

"Maybe one day, Virgil." Scott sighed. His middle brother was just a little too perceptive. "Not today though."

Virgil seemed to accept that and stop pushing, walking with Scott back into the villa. Scott made a beeline for his hot shower, ready to wash off the chlorine and get something to eat.

Grandma looked much better for getting some sleep. She was bustling around the kitchen putting the final touches onto dinner. It appeared to be one of her ranch staples - brisket with fries and slaw. Also one of Scott's favourites, he was almost drooling at the smell throughout the kitchen. His spirits lifted further when he saw the large pie sat on the side - given the season it was probably cherry pie, but in his view that came a close second to apple anyway.

"You're spoiling us, Grandma." He stated as he sat down. Truthfully, after his stint in the pool he felt hungry enough to eat everything in the kitchen.

"Oh hush," his Grandma chided fondly. "After you getting up so early the night after Tintin's party to come and help us all out, I thought you deserved a little treat."

"Well we certainly aren't complaining," Virgil said, sliding into the seat next to Scott. "This looks great."

This sentiment was echoed by Gordon, Alan and Brains who all came to find seats around the table.

"Hi Brains," Scott called to the engineer. "Tintin get away ok?"

"H-hi Scott. Yes, she did and A-Annie took a, um, car over to Cape Cod."

"It was a pretty sweet convertible," Alan jumped in. "A Bravetta XC, one of the fastest hydrogen powered cars out there. Tintin knows her stuff."

"T-that's my girl." Brains stated proudly.

"When is she getting home," Scott asked, helping himself to some of the food.

"T-they fly back to California on T-Thursday, then Tintin will fly the Ladybird home after that. She'll be here T-Thursday evening."

Scott's hopes sank in disappointment. He'd forgotten that the Ladybird was undergoing a major refit on the mainland, Tintin would naturally want to fly her own jet home. He'd have to find another excuse to get to California in the near future. He fell silent, thinking about this problem, while the others talked and laughed around him. If his subdued demeanour was noticed, it was attributed to being ill the night before and not getting much rest subsequently. Only Virgil wondered if perhaps there may be a little more to it.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Over the next few days Scott thought long and hard but couldn't come up with a good reason for him to go and escort Tintin home. Not one that didn't make it sound as though he didn't trust her to fly her own jet anyway, which was ridiculous as she was a perfectly competent pilot and he knew it.

His sour mood had been noticed on the Island. Not only was he irritated that he couldn't find an excuse to go and meet Annie, but he also had constant thoughts swirling inside his mind about whether or not he should just let her be. This was keeping him up at night, so in the morning he was feeling even more tired than he had the night before. He was throwing himself into the gym to try to run the thoughts out of his mind on the treadmill but it wasn't working.

He'd spoken to John in the morning, after he'd confirmed that his brother had managed to deal with the mess up on Thunderbird 5 and actually got some sleep himself. Scott told John of his discovery, showing him the precious photograph that was all the proof Scott needed. John listened and nodded where appropriate. He still knew very little about the woman Scott loved, but he knew enough to know that whilst this development was incredible it would probably cause a whole new set of problems in the near future. There was a reason Scott had kept her existence a secret from the rest of the Island, after all.

A lifeline came for Scott the day before Tintin was due to arrive home. He was in the lounge with his father and Virgil, who was playing the piano, when Tintin's brand new portrait started flashing.

"Come in Tintin," Jeff answered. "Is everything ok?"

"Hello Mr Tracy," Tintin's smiling face appeared on the screen. Scott could see pristine white sands behind her and the sea beyond that. "Hello Scott. Everything is ok, but I've just a call that there will be a delay to Ladybird - apparently one of the aft thrusters misfired during the shake down and they want to do some further testing before she's cleared for flight."

"Oh I'm sorry to hear that," Jeff replied. "I know how much you were looking forward to getting her back."

"Well, I am disappointed." Tintin admitted. "But more importantly, I now don't have a ride home from California tomorrow."

"Say, father, why don't I go and pick up Tintin?" Scott asked casually, inwardly rejoicing. "I didn't get a chance to get into any shops in Boston and I have a few things I need. We could even grab a quick dinner together before heading home. How does that sound, Tintin?"

"Oh what a lovely idea Scott! Would you mind if Annie joined us? I promised her that we'd go to some shops together tomorrow."

"Not at all, it'd be swell to finally meet her. How about it, dad?"

"Seems like you have it all worked out," Jeff was smiling. "Sounds like a good solution to me, makes up in some way for you being called home so early."

"Great," Tintin enthused. "Our flight is the XS214, Scott. Due into Los Angeles at half past two."

"I'll be there to meet you," Scott promised, jotting down the details as Tintin rang off. He straightened up and stretched his back. "Guess I'll have to get onto Tracy industry's airport to let them know I'm coming tomorrow."

"Did I hear that you were off to the mainland, Scott?" Virgil called from the piano.

"Yes you did, picking up Tintin tomorrow as Ladybird still isn't ready yet."

"Shame about Ladybird," Virgil replied, closing the piano lid and moving to join them at the desk. "But great that you'll actually be able to meet Annie! I can't believe you haven't managed to so far, when she's Tintin's best friend."

"Ah yes, Annie." Jeff stated. "What do you think of her, Virgil?"

"She's nice," he replied with a shrug. "A bit quiet maybe, but I've only met her when she's in a large group."

"Mike Clifford thinks highly of her," Jeff noted, sorting through some paperwork on his desk. "I asked him when Tintin first befriended her - it seemed a bit of a coincidence that Annie turned up out of the blue with amnesia and just happening to make friends with Tintin. But Mike vouches for her, she really had a horrific injury and only has some very vague memories of her life before."

"Poor girl," Virgil sympathised. "It must be horrible not knowing who you are or who your family is."

"I need to go try to clear our flight," Scott informed them both, picking up the piece of paper he'd written the details on. "I'll call John as well, he can track Tintin's flight for me and let me know if it's delayed."

"Your brother isn't an air traffic controller," Jeff said, exasperated.

"Well no," Scott replied. "But he needs something to keep him busy on quiet days!"

Scott duly informed John of the change in plans, who could feel the excitement and nervousness radiating off his elder brother in waves. "You may need to tone it down a bit," he informed Scott. "At this rate you really are going to scare her off."

"I need to let it out now," Scott countered, almost bouncing in his chair.

The whole Island could feel the change in Scott's mood. Alan and Gordon held whispered discussions regarding Scott's sudden obsession with the mall, Brains worried that the excitement was directed at seeing Tintin and Virgil couldn't work out where the mysterious Angel fitted into it all. The rest didn't care, it felt like the last two years had melted away and the old Scott was back for a while.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

That excitement lasted until the next morning. John called early to say that Tintin's flight had successfully departed. Scott had eaten breakfast and was attacking the puzzles in the paper to while away the time before he had to leave. Virgil and Gordon were chatting about an article on deep sea exploration they had watched on the television, Brains was setting up a chessboard and Alan was painting a model car he'd built from a kit.

This meant that all the brothers were all in the lounge when John's portrait started flashing. Scott smothered the feeling of disappointment - if a rescue came in then he wouldn't be able to pick up Tintin, but a as he'd said in Boston International Rescue was more important.

"Come in John, what's happening?" Jeff was also in the lounge, sat at his desk.

"I've had reports of a plane going missing in the middle of its flight," John replied, face pale in the monitor which immediately set alarm bells ringing for Scott.

"Missing? How does a plane go missing?" Scott queried.

"Sounds like some form of communications failure," Jeff replied. "Must have been in mid-flight when the communications system went down. But that shouldn't cause it too many problems, it's not really something for International Rescue.

"But that's the thing father," John continued, drawn expression resting on Scott and Brains in turn. "It's not just any plane. It's Tintin's flight to Los Angeles."


	20. The Search

"Right John, tell me what's going on." Jeff instructed from his desk. Brains had knocked over the chess board in his rush to get close, his face pale and his hands shaking. Jeff had also called for Kyrano, who had entered and stood with Brains. All three were waiting impatiently for John to tell them what he knew.

Everyone was so focussed on the screen no one thought to look at Scott. All colour had drained from his face and the pencil he held in his hand had snapped, such was the force he was gripping it with. John was the only one who had cast his eyes over at his oldest brother, but he had to leave him to it unless he was going to drag everyone's attention to his reaction.

"The plane took off on time as I reported earlier and Tintin messaged me to say that she and Annie had boarded safely. At approximately two hours into its flight time, all signals from the plane stopped transmitting and it disappeared from view."

"Can you pick it up using one of the scanners?"

"That's the thing father - I can't find it anywhere. As soon as I heard the messages from air traffic control trying to reach it I looked for it, thinking initially that it must just be a radio issue. But it has completely disappeared, I can't find any signal coming from it at all. It's like it never existed."

Virgil looked pale as he asked the question he knew that Brains would be dreading. "Has it crashed?"

"Negative, Virgil. I can't see any indication of a crash site and as it was travelling over land at the time it should have been apparent. As I said, it's like it has simply disappeared."

"Scott, Virgil, get into the air. I want you heading to the location that John gives you, the last known location of the plane. We need to find it. Virgil, take Alan and Gordon with you, the more eyes on this the better."

"F.A.B. Father," Virgil, Alan and Gordon stated. Scott moved impassively to the portrait and pulled on the lights. His family were too preoccupied to realise that he was acting out of character though as he left in silence.

"M-Mr Tracy, can I g-go with Virgil?"

"No Brains," Jeff spoke gently. "I know you want to find the plane and Tintin, but leave this to the boys. I need you here, we'll pull out some maps and using the flight speed and trajectory work out likely search zones that this plane could be in."

"Y-yes, Mr Tracy," Brains looked crushed, Kyrano reached over and put his hand on the engineer's shoulder, a rare tactile moment for the quiet man. The two stood together, both of their thoughts centred on Tintin.

With a roar Thunderbird 1 took to the skies. Scott's thoughts and feelings had been pushed to one side to enable him to act professionally. He abstractly knew that the level of compartmentalisation he was experiencing probably wasn't healthy, but he couldn't afford to dwell too much right now. He had a job to do, he had to find the plane that Angel and Tintin were on and make sure that they were safe. He gunned Thunderbird 1's thrusters as much as he could, aware that he was pushing his machine to the absolute limit. He didn't exactly expect Brains to complain this time.

John came over the radio to give him the location he was aiming for, then left the airways open. Scott reached the danger zone in next to no time, swinging past the last known point of the plane and picking up its course. As he flew along the plane's trajectory, past the point where it had disappeared, he scanned the ground below with instruments and by eye.

The good news is that there was no sign of a crash. Below Scott was a vast stretch of prairie, a crash would be easy to see from many miles away due to the smoke and debris that would be thrown up. The bad news is that there was no sign of a plane.

A thrum of engines told him that Thunderbird 2 had also arrived. Virgil must have been putting his foot down as well to have reached the area so quickly.

"Anything?" Virgil's voice crackled over the intercom. Even from here Scott could hear the worry that he knew would be evident in his own voice as well.

"Nothing," Scott replied. "No crash site, no plane. It's like John said, it has simply disappeared."

"OK boys," their father interrupted from base. "Brains, Kyrano and I have been working out search zones based on what other aircraft were in the area and the specifications of the plane. Scott, you'll be searching zone one alpha, bravo and charlie. Virgil, you get one delta, two alpha and beta. John will send the coordinates through for each of the zones. If we still can't find this thing then we'll expand the search area."

"F.A.B. Father." Scott studied the locations that John sent through, pulling his craft close to the ground and cruising slowly as he did a sweep of the first zone, coming up blank. He moved onto the next zone, also having no luck. The third zone came up negative too. From his communications with Thunderbird 2 he knew that Virgil was also empty handed.

He was beginning to feel a prickle of panic. How could a plane just disappear from the skies? He moved out to the next search zone than John gave him, further away from the original location. His scanners were still picking up nothing. But...wait. There was a glint in the distance. Scott realigned his scanners but they came back negative. Still, he moved closer.

The glint disappeared and he thought he may have imagined it. But as he moved closer still, he could make out the shape of the tail of an aircraft sticking out from the prairie grass.

"Thunderbird 1 to Thunderbird 2 and International Rescue, I've found it! Zone three bravo, heading two two zero one."

"Can you confirm it is the correct plane Scott?" His father's voice crackled over the intercom.

"It's serial number is SPR6789X," Scott read from the tail fin as he moved closer.

"F.A.B. Scott, just confirming with air traffic control."

"If it isn't the right plane than why would it be out here?" Scott asked. "I'm going to go in for a closer look."

"Ok, I don't need to tell you to be careful. Virgil will be with you soon."

Scott engaged the landing gear and carefully put Thunderbird 1 down next to the plane, flattening a large area of grass. From the ground, he could see the tyre tracks and blown grass that indicated the plane had landed and taxied to its current position.

The plane was silent, no indication that anyone on board was looking for help. Scott felt dread settle over him. He picked up a jet pack out of Thunderbird 1 and approached the plane slowly. It wasn't large, but was still quite a long way from the ground. Scott decided to first check out the cockpit to find out what had happened to the pilots.

He engaged the jet packs and flew upwards, hovering by the cockpit window. It was dark and he struggled to make out the exterior. He stuck a suction cup to the window and began to slowly cut around it. Whilst working Scott heard Thunderbird 2 approach and land next to his own craft.

"Thunderbird 2 to Thunderbird 1, what's happening Scott?"

"I don't know," Scott replied, still intent on cutting a hole into the plane. "It's quiet. Too quiet. Can you find out from John how many passengers are meant to be on this thing?"

"F.A.B. Scott." Virgil went quiet, although Scott could see Alan and Gordon approaching with jet packs too. "He says it was nearly full, one eleven passengers, four cabin crew and two pilots."

"I don't like it," Scott muttered, half to himself and half to Virgil. "That many people on this plane should make quite a bit of noise."

He'd finally managed to make a hole big enough to climb in to the cabin through. He pushed the glass inwards, it falling heavily against the instrumentation but not shattering. Climbing through was still a tight fit but he managed it.

As soon as Scott was in the cockpit he swore loudly. He now knew what had happened to the pilot and co-pilot, and it wasn't pretty.

"Thunderbird 2, the pilots have been shot!"

Scott heard Virgil swear down the comms as Gordon appeared in the window. Gordon's grim expression told Scott that he'd heard the communication. "I've told Alan to wait outside," he informed Scott, who nodded in thanks.

"Any chance for them, Scott?"

Scott knelt down next to the forms of the pilots, searching for a pulse. "Negative, Virgil." He sighed deeply, resting one hand on his knee. The pilots were huddled at the back of the cockpit, presumably out of the way of the controls of the plane. Scott gently closed their eyes.

"We need to check the rest of the plane," Gordon said, none of the usual levity in his voice.

Scott simply nodded and stood slowly, looking at the closed door to the rest of the plane as though dreading what he may find. Shaking himself out of it and reminding himself he had a job to do, he started to open the door. Gordon reached around him and slammed it shut suddenly.

"Gas!" Gordon exclaimed, pointing to the white mist that had seeped through from the open door. Scott swore again.

"Thunderbird 2, we're going to need masks," he informed Virgil down the intercom whilst mentally berating himself for not bringing one with him.

"F.A.B. Scott, I'll send Alan up with them," came the speedy reply. The youngest brother soon materialised in the window, holding two gas masks for Gordon and Scott. The blond looked distinctly uncomfortable, glancing at the bodies at the back of the compartment.

"I'm gonna go back and wait with Virgil," Alan informed them. "We'll be around the side if you can get any of the doors open."

"OK Alan, good work bringing us these. Keep comms open."

The youngest looked at Scott. "Yes dad," he replied sarcastically. If Scott hadn't been wound up so tight he probably would have found it amusing, but all he could spare right now was a glare. As though sensing he'd been on the verge of pushing Scott a bit too far in the present circumstance, Alan backed out of the plane without another word.

Scott and Gordon suited up, their protective masks encasing their whole heads. Getting the nod from Gordon, Scott opened the door again. This time he was prepared for the gas that came swirling through past their feet.

The first compartment after the cockpit held the cabin crew. Scott could see two of them lying still near the kitchenette area, where they had apparently been making drinks for passengers judging by the spilt drinks that still steamed from the floor. In alarm he rushed forwards to check them, breathing a sigh of relief when he found pulses.

"Cabin crew are alive," he informed the others. He could see Gordon give a sigh of relief next to him and between them they manhandled the crew into more comfortable positions, seated in the aisle with their backs against the wall.

They moved into the main body of the plane. It wasn't a large plane, arranged with two comfortable looking seats either side of the aisle. Scott and Gordon checked passengers in the first row, again relieved to find pulses. "Passengers alive too," Scott confirmed with his brother's outside. "Just unconscious. Must be the gas."

"I'm on it," Gordon stated, moving to one of the bulkhead doors. He opened it manually, inflating the large emergency slide. As soon as the door was open the gas began to dissipate, sinking out of the plane. Gordon repeated the action on the other side and soon the gas in the plane was at much lower levels.

The effect of fresh air kicked in almost immediately. The passengers nearest the doors began to stir, rousing themselves from their sleep.

"Virgil, Alan, the passengers are waking up and I'm going to start sending them down the slides," Scott informed them. "Can you count? We're after a capacity of one hundred and eleven, plus four cabin crew." Scott could see at least one of the remaining crew members slumped in the aisle of the plane.

Slowly, the brothers on the plane started coaxing the passengers towards the brothers waiting on the ground. It was a difficult task, most people were disorientated, some not even aware the plane had landed. Gordon and Scott took a side of the aisle each, directing the groggy casualties out of their respective doors. One particularly upset man insisted that Scott was trying to send him to his doom, screaming and fighting against him for some time before Scott could persuade him to evacuate the plane.

Once that difficult passenger had gone, Scott could see that only he and Gordon were left on the plane. Judging that the gas had dissipated enough now, Scott pulled off his mask and wiped his brow. "All out?"

"Yep, we're the only ones left on board. Well, us and the pilots." Gordon nodded his head towards the cockpit.

Scott sighed. "We'll let local authorities come and deal with that, it's a crime scene I guess. How were Tintin and Annie?"

Gordon looked confused. "I haven't seen them, didn't they leave your side?"

A swell of panic rose up inside Scott. "Virgil, how many do you have down there?"

"Hey Scott, we must nearly have them all now. We have one hundred and six passengers and three of the crew. If you hurry the last ones down we can start to get people out of here."

Scott could see the moment Gordon realised the implications, his face losing all colour. The redhead sprinted down the aisle, checking the restrooms at the back and then making his way slowly back up the plane to ensure they hadn't missed anyone. "Virgil, count again!" Scott ordered. "There is no one else on board." Gordon's tight shake of his head confirmed Scott's words.

There was a short silence. "Confirm one hundred and nine total, Scott. Three are crew." Virgil's voice was now full of concern.

"Copy that, Thunderbird 2. I'm sending Gordon back to you, get those people into the pod and get them to safety. I'll call local authorities and report the murder of the pilots. I'll call in the hostages too." Scott waved at Gordon, who was trying to signal that he would stay with Scott.

"Your brother will need you," Scott told him firmly. "There are a hundred and nine people there that all need to be taken to safety, it's going to be cramped in Thunderbird 2."

Gordon looked sulky, but he complied with his older brother's request. As soon as Gordon left, Scott got back on the transmitter.

"Thunderbird 1 to Thunderbird 5."

"Scott," John looked pale. "Are you ok?"

"I need you to get me a line with the local police." Scott was all business as he spoke to his brother. "This plane is a crime scene and they need to get over here. You need to let them know there are at least two passengers that have been kidnapped, maybe more. Given the planning behind this operation, maybe alert the defence force too."

"F.A.B., Scott. I'll pass on the details direct, you get out of there."

"I'm going to do one more sweep to see if there is anything Gordon missed." Scott cut off his brother abruptly. Outside, he could hear Thunderbird 2's thrusters power up as she started to ferry victims to the nearest hospital for a check-up.

True to his word, Scott scoured the plane looking for anything that may provide a clue to who had taken Tintin and Annie, but he came up blank. Finally, he had to accept that there was nothing else to find. He handed the plane over to the local police, who had arrived by this point. He also explained to them that two off-duty International Rescue operatives had been on the plane and were now missing. The police were very sympathetic and promised to conduct full interviews with the remaining passengers as part of their investigation.

Finally, Scott took to the air to fly home. The journey was short and he arrived back not long after Virgil and his other brothers. He debriefed quickly, speaking in a detached voice and trying not to look at the devastated expressions on the faces of his family. Tintin being taken was unthinkable and had rocked them to their very core.

Scott cared about Tintin and was equally shocked that anyone would think to harm the gentle girl. But it wasn't for Tintin that he held himself rigid, maintaining his cool exterior as he debriefed. As soon as his father let him go he walked straight to his room and shut the door firmly behind him. He rested against the door, letting his head fall back against it with a heavy clunk.

Without warning, he spun and sent a punch towards the nearest wall. The sudden pain in his hand finally brought him back to his senses, looking down he could see blood from where he had split the skin. He decided the best thing would be to clean, so he stripped and got into his shower. He watched the blood drain away down the sink while the water fell around him, swirling as though it could wash away the events of the last twenty four hours.

Then, and only then, did Scott Tracy let himself break down into tears.


End file.
